


A Suitable Education

by stagethree



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Although Im sure some exist that are deader, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Hannibal and Alana are married but they're not together, I cannot overemphasize how dead this dove is, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Marking, Medical Kink, Omega Will Graham, Praise Kink, Pseudo-Incest, Situational Humiliation, Size Kink, Size Shaming, Verbal Humiliation, Weaponized Gentling, Will is a teenager, really fucking awful and problematic treatment of omegas in this universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stagethree/pseuds/stagethree
Summary: Hannibal’s fingertips stroked through Will’s curls again, to place feather-light caresses against the nape of his neck. Will shivered under his touch, breathed in deep, and fell forward, limp, face no longer tucked into Hannibal’s thigh, but into his groin, nose and mouth sucking in deep, long breaths.“And they’ve pinched you,” Hannibal added, earning a small nod of Will’s head in response. “Where?”“Daddy,” Will said, voice plaintive, tilting his head up to look at Hannibal from under the fringe of his lashes, eyes blue and shimmering, face splotchy and red with embarrassment. He spoke into the fine material of Hannibal’s trousers, his breath humid, his mouth moving over Hannibal’s cock. “It’s humiliating.”---Hannibal finds out his step-son has been withholding some important information. It's sex and gender education week at school, and some of the boys have been teasing him.Touchingwhat belongs to Hannibal. This is unacceptable, and a little re-education is in order.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 100
Kudos: 402





	1. Let Alpha Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ABO takes place in a world that is not kind in the least to omegas. It’s a disgusting and exploitative universe. Hannibal, here, is disgusting and exploitative. I obviously don't endorse relationships like these in reality. You've read the tags, you know what to expect. 
> 
> Not Beta'd because how could I ever subject someone to critiquing this filth and still expect them to want to interact with me afterward. Also, my first fic in this fandom! I've been reading and lurking in Hannibal fics for like three years now. I used to write for [REDACTED FOR REASONS OF SHAME] but haven't done much fic writing in any fandom really, so please be kind.

**A Suitable Education**

**by stagethree**

.

**Chapter 1**

**Let Alpha Help**

“Will,” Hannibal said, eyeing that boy's lax grip on his fork, the way he pushed the haricot verts aimlessly across his plate. “If you’re done eating, put your utensils down, please.”

Will sighed, settling his fork and knife in the ‘done’ position on his plate. “Sorry,” he said, head bowing forward a little, exposing the pale side of his neck in a traditional gesture of appeasement. An omega already, even though he had yet to present. “Not hungry, I guess.”

Hannibal didn’t question whether the food was to blame. Will had loved Hannibal’s cooking ever since the first time he’d sat at Hannibal’s table, awed by his surroundings, awed by the man who would soon become his father, at the impressionable age of five years old. Hannibal had never treated Will as a child, as far as cooking was concerned; Will left the world of fast foods and microwave meals behind in favor of gourmet, multiple-course dining with recipes from around the world, the moment that Alana accepted Hannibal’s offer of marriage. 

This meal in particular never failed to please Will. Pork loin, French green beans, lightly dressed orzo with baby heirloom tomatoes and ripe, juicy olives. In fact, Hannibal had made it for the express purpose of chivvying Will into eating more; this past week he had come home from school each day looking wan, listless, and unable to eat. 

“Five days of depressed appetite,” he noted, cutting into the pork loin on his own plate. 

Wills head swiveled in his direction at that, accusation in his eyes. “You said no doctor mode, Dad.”

_Fifteen can be such a contrary age._

For the last year, with the specter of puberty approaching, Will’s sensitivity to his father’s doctoring had ratcheted skyward. Another sign of his inevitable omega-hood; omegas, already reclusive by nature, were fiercely protective of the Alphas in their lives. Hannibal doctoring him implied distance, and Will, such a sensitive boy, could not stomach the prospect of distance between himself and his Alpha **.**

Unless he put it there himself, of course.

Another bite, chewing slowly as he stared his son down. “My concern is not unreasonable.”

Wills lips parted to contradict that, but then closed again. He looked down into his lap, again tilting his head so fractionally that the gesture _must_ be unconscious, and sighed. “I’ll wash the dishes,” he offered, already knowing where the evening would go. 

Hannibal nodded. This was part of a well-established routine. Hannibal would wipe off dishes as Will washed, part of the same team for the duration of an activity before settling down in Hannibal’s office for a much-needed conversation. A routine they had begun not long after Will moved in, after he had proved himself to have a remarkable insight and intelligence into the workings of his own mind and the minds of others. “You’ll dry them as well tonight,” Hannibal said, with a glance at his watch. Again, Will stared up at him, accusation in his eyes. “I have an appointment with your mother shortly. Would you like me to pass any messages along to her?”

A beat, during which Will’s sharp little teeth gnawed at his lower lip. “Nothing really. Hope she’s having a good tour.” These words, said with little conviction. 

Yet another sign in favor of his eventual designation. A general antipathy to others of their kind, even family members, until the achievement of hormonal regulation via mating. Omegas, the truest to their baser instincts, did not take kindly to even the remotest possibility of competition while they remained unmated. 

“One hour,” Hannibal said, dropping his napkin on the tablecloth and leaving his sulking, beautiful son to clean up the table. 

Ensconced in the comfort of his leather desk chair, Hannibal took a moment to consider his son’s behaviour of late. Loss of appetite. Poor sleep, if the sounds the monitor picked up from his bedroom were anything to go by. Mood swings. Increased tardiness when preparing for school. A particular aversion to their good night routine. 

Hannibal frowned, and dialed his wife. Alana picked up on the third ring. “I’m worried about your son,” Hannibal said in lieu of a greeting. “I hoped you might have some insight.”

“I told you parenting solo would be harder than you thought,” Alana laughed, using the tone of voice that he associated with sparkling blue eyes and a healthy amount of impertinence. Still charming, after all these years. “Do I need to come back early?”

“Of course not,” Hannibal said, knowing she’d made the offer with no intention of following through. This lecture tour meant everything to her, and she would not be so cavalier about leaving it behind over Will’s little temper tantrums. “Your expertise will be enough.”

Alana listened to the list of complaints. “Something at school,” she said. A hum of thought. “Oh. _Oh_. Wasn’t it sex and gender education week this week?” 

The words dropped like leaden weights in Hannibal’s gut. “Has the curriculum been rearranged? I’d understood that it would take place in May.” A month and a half away, still. Hannibal, kept busy with his bustling practice and his consultancy at the FBI, nevertheless made a point of being aware of and involved in Will’s ongoing education. That he had not been made aware of _this_ \--

“Mrs. Madchen is pregnant,” Alana said, with increasing certainty coloring her voice. “They probably moved it to accommodate her maternity leave.” 

An understandable change. Nubile minds would want to learn these intimate subjects from teachers they knew and trusted, not from a substitute, a virtual stranger. “Her lessons must have been inadequate,” Hannibal said, suppressing a subvocal growl, “for them to leave Will in such a state.”

“It’s probably not the lessons, Hannibal,” Alana said, voice gentle, placative. “You know how children can be at that age.”

“There’s no question that it's the children,” Hannibal answered. “But their behaviour might well have been curbed by an adequate education.” Poor lessons were one problem, easily corrected. But lessons poor enough to inspire misbehaviour among his peers… 

“I can hear you becoming more and more overprotective.”

This brought a smile to his face. “Can you?”

“It’s in your breathing,” Alana said. “Are you having one of your sit-down talks?”

“Momentarily.”

“Well, you’ve always understood him in a way I never could. What a failure of a mother I am,” she sighed. He did not contradict her; she wouldn’t expect him to, either. She may bear his mark, and he may father her child, but neither of them pretended that their arrangement was anything more than that. “Just remember that he sees as well as listens. You can’t lie to that boy.”

“Of course not,” Hannibal said, so convincingly that Alana’s voice remained bright and unquestioning when she said: 

“Send him my love, alright?”

“Always. He sends you his.”

“The way you send yours?” Alana asked, once more laughing, sly. _That_ was a lie she would never believe, of course, from Will _or_ Hannibal.

“Just so. Send my regards to Margot.” 

“ _Goodbye_ , Hannibal,” drifted Margot’s voice down the line, sparkling with laughter, and then the call disconnected. Hannibal set his phone back into his drawer, contemplating their conversation, steepled fingers tapping against his chin. 

Sex and gender education week, timed so perfectly for when Will’s mother would be away from home. At first, the news had been unwelcome. But now that he considered it more carefully...

Fortune had always favored him, perhaps because he never took it for granted. 

An hour to the minute after Hannibal left the dining room, a tentative knock sounded on his office door. He smoothed the front of his shirt and scooted his chair back from the desk before calling for Will to enter. 

Will did as instructed, stepping into the office quietly, then turning and shutting the door behind him. Never mind that they were alone at home; strict adherence to routines was paramount in the formation of a young omega’s mind. He’d even changed out of his school clothes and into his pajamas, a pair of soft flannel pants, and one of Hannibal’s old white undershirts, the collar stretched thin so that it showed the curve of Will’s clavicles. _Smart boy_. “Everything’s put away,” he said, hands folded behind his back, leaning against the door.

“Thank you,” Hannibal said. He studied his son before him, the high color on his cheeks. _Anticipatory embarrassment_. A pat to the inside of his thigh. “Come.”

Will didn’t hesitate, falling into a familiar pattern. Only a few strides carried him across the office; he stopped in front of Hannibal and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against Hannibal’s raised cheek. At his father’s _good bo_ y, Will dropped to his knees with the ease and grace of long practice, in his proper place in the space between Hannibal’s spread thighs, his head laid gently against the very spot that Hannibal had patted to summon him. 

“Are you ready to talk?” Hannibal asked, running his fingers through the riotous curls on the top of Will’s head. 

“Mmhmm,” Will answered, eyelids drifting down to half-mast, hands folded tidily in his lap, unmoving. 

Already, his Alpha’s scent had soothed him into compliance. It came faster and faster now; even one year ago, they would have to sit this way for ten minutes at the very least before Will achieved this state of placid malleability. 

“Why are we here, Will?” he asked, running the tip of a finger over the shell of Will’s ear. 

“I haven’t been eating well,” he said. “I’ve been upset and I haven’t talked to you about it.”

“What do we call that, dear boy?” Hannibal sighed, smelling his son’s calm permeate the air. A bit sweeter now than ever before. 

“Withholding.” And then, being the intelligent boy he was, he answered Hannibal’s next question before he could speak it. “We don’t withhold from our Alphas. You can’t help if you don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Just so.” Hannibal stroked Will’s cheekbone with his thumb, drank in the sight of the boy’s eyelashes fluttering the rest of the way closed. “Let Alpha help you, Will. Tell me what’s the matter.”

Will’s head turned, nose nuzzling against Hannibal’s thigh. With the gentle encouragement of a gentle press against that back of his head, Will slid a little higher up Hannibal’s leg. He sighed. “It’s the boys at school.”

“Mm.”

Will knew that sound by now. It meant his answer didn’t suffice. “Matthew,” he said. “And Frederick.” Names that had come up more than once now, in such talks as these. “They haven’t left me alone since Mrs. Madchen taught us about omegas. Which--” he frowned, but then seemed to change his mind. “Making fun of me, you know. Saying I’ll be an omega, pinching where they want to bite me, stupid stuff.”

Only a few sentences, and yet so much to comment on. “You _will be_ an omega, sweet boy,” Hannibal murmured, smoothing the furrow between Will’s brows. Will made a noncommittal sound. “Look at you now, darling. How can you doubt it?”

Will’s eyelids lifted and he fixed his father with a mutinous glare.

“But there is no reason they should be so certain, is there.” Hannibal conceded the point, and Will’s expression relaxed. “Why have they singled you out as an omega? What has convinced them so?”

Another long sigh. “Matthew spied on me in the changing rooms,” he said. “He saw-- he saw.”

“What did he see, Will?” Hannibal asked, patient, even knowing that he ought to punish this further instance of withholding. 

Will caught the undercurrent of a threat in his father’s voice and hastened to repair the damage. “They saw my--my penis,” he said, stumbling over the word, face flaming. He turned his face further into Hannibal’s thigh, and Hannibal encouraged him to lean ever further forward, so that Will’s nose lay in the folds of fabric where his hip creased.

Hannibal’s fingertips stroked through Will’s curls again, to place feather-light caresses against the nape of his neck. Will shivered under his touch, breathed in deep, and fell forward, limp, face no longer tucked into Hannibal’s thigh, but into his groin, nose and mouth sucking in deep, long breaths. 

“And they’ve pinched you,” Hannibal added, earning a small nod of Will’s head in response. “Where?”

“Daddy,” Will said, voice plaintive, tilting his head up to look at Hannibal from under the fringe of his lashes, eyes blue and shimmering, face splotchy and red with embarrassment. He spoke into the fine material of Hannibal’s trousers, his breath humid, his mouth moving over Hannibal’s cock. “It’s humiliating.” 

“We’ll leave that for now, then,” Hannibal said, to a frustrated groan from his son. “You had concerns about the lessons Mrs. Madchen was teaching.”

A long sigh. Will’s eyes shut again, resuming his deep breathing, calming himself with Alpha’s scent. “It wasn’t… it’s not what we’ve talked about before.”

“I had my concerns,” Hannibal said, the fingers on Will’s nape now gently squeezing and releasing his neck, applying pressure with the pads of his fingers over Will’s scent glands. The air smelled even sweeter now, more than it had before. “Your mother assured me that the school’s curriculum would be satisfactory, but I confess, I had my concerns.” Will had gone stiff at the mention of his mother. “What foolishness did Mrs. Madchen teach you, I wonder?”

“Omegas serve a-- a societal function,” Will answered immediately, and with enthusiasm. Happy to prove that his mother’s decision had been a poor one. “We’re meant to allow Alphas to claim us. Give them babies. Be quiet and useful. Be grateful for the chance to serve the Alphas in whatever way they ask.”

Hannibal smiled at Will’s little slip of the tongue. ‘ _We’re_ meant to.’ Counting himself an omega already, sweet boy. “But that’s not what we’ve talked about, is it, darling?” He squeezed Will’s nape once more, hard, and Will fell limp in his hold. 

A few more panting breaths, a gentle, quiet whine from somewhere in the back of Will’s throat, when Hannibal’s fingers loosened around him. “No,” he managed. “Daddy, I--” he took another deep breath, mouth parted over Hannibal’s cock through his pants still. His hands remained on his lap, but no longer relaxed, his tangled fingers white from the strength of his grip.

“You look flushed,” Hannibal said, taking hold of Will’s hair and prying him off his cock. Too young to present, still, but in the face of Hannibal’s overwhelming Alpha scent, the sweet boy had lost control. His pajamas tented upward, a dot of moisture on the grey fabric. “Mrs. Madchen has done you a disservice, and you know I take your education seriously, Will.” He eyed the gentle curve of Will’s neck, the way the color had drifted down to his chest. 

“I know,” Will agreed, blinking rapidly, trying to regain a semblance of control.

“Tomorrow,” Hannibal said, “I’ll keep you from school and we’ll do it correctly. You’re long overdue for a check-up anyway. We’ll cover all of the bases from the beginning. You’ll work hard won’t you? Be a good boy, and do what I say?”

“Yes,” Will said, eyes closing again. He took a deep, steadying breath, and though his erection remained, he seemed to have compartmentalized it successfully. “I’ll be good, Alpha.”

“Excellent.” Hannibal released Will’s hair, and to his delight, his son dove forward, tucking his face back where he’d been so cozy before-- cheek pressed to the crease of Hannibal’s hip, nose and mouth nuzzling against Hannibal’s groin. “You stay there until you’ve calmed down, darling, and then off to bed with you.”

“No good-night?” Will asked, voice small.

“Not tonight, Will. You’re too tired.”

Will nodded, remaining still and quiet until Hannibal grew convinced he must be dozing, for a good hour longer. When he eventually stood, he had regained his composure, though his face had the pleasant color and vacant stare of a young man inebriated, and he mumbled an unintelligible good night before stumbling off to his room. 

Hannibal waited for the sound of Will’s bedroom door closing before he got up and returned to his bedroom. He stripped his clothing off with a quick efficiency, and settled between the sheets, back propped up against his pillow, cock pulsing heavy in his hand, before he turned on the monitor on his nightstand. 

Not much later, he heard the rustling of sheets, and then a long sigh. “Daddy?”

Hannibal squeezed himself hard before leaning over and pushing the button on the monitor. “Yes, darling?”

“May I touch myself?”

“You know it will do no good, Will.” The hand not occupied with the talk button occupied itself with a few slow, firm strokes of his cock instead.

“Can I _try_?”

“No, Will. Go to sleep, now. I’ll want you ready by seven.”

Hannibal released the button and settled against the pillows again. His thumb swept over the head of his cock, once, twice, and then he resumed the slow, firm strokes of the shaft. From the monitor, another small noise, a subvocal whine. Will wouldn’t be aware he was doing it, of course. The omega in him calling out his distress to his Alpha. A kind man might hear the whines and go to comfort his son. Hannibal was not a kind man. He drank down the sweet sounds of Will’s suffering, squeezing his cock in time to Will’s pitiful, hitching breaths, and came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts off relatively tame, but. This is like five or six chapters or something? It's just gonna get worse and worse as we get into it. Buckle in, we're on our way to hell.


	2. Except You

**A Suitable Education**

**by stagethree**

.

**Chapter 2**

**Except You**

  
  


“We’re going to your office?” Will asked, uncertainty dripping from his voice as he stared at the Bentley. 

After Hannibal had finished last night, he’d gone to Will’s room to find him already asleep, laying on his stomach with his head turned to the side, one hand curled under his chin. He eased the covers down to Will’s knees and smeared some of his ejaculate across Will’s bottom lip. The sweet boy’s little pink tongue had darted out almost immediately to taste it, and this unconscious gesture said _Omega_ so strongly that Hannibal stroked himself to completion once more, this time over the body of his sleeping son, catching his come in his hand. He’d tugged the back of Will’s pajama pants down, and wiped his come off on the boy’s behind, tucking his finger between the boy’s cheeks to press his scent against his puckered little hole. 

He’d debated, then, as his finger drew tight circles, teasing against the opening, whether to teach their lessons at home, or at his office. Home had its appeal, of course. Familiar, comfortable. But surrounding Will in unfamiliar scents and sounds would make him more likely to seek out the familiar. The very prospect of Will, clinging to him despite his affront, had made his mind up for him. 

  
“I think you will find it easier to stomach me doctoring you,” Hannibal said with an affectionate smile and a light push at the middle of Will’s back, encouraging him toward the car, “if we’re someplace that makes me seem less like your father, and more like your doctor.”

Another doubtful glance from Will, but he did as Hannibal instructed and got into the car. Hannibal had a surgery suite and an examination room in the same building as the carefully decorated office he used for his psychiatric practice. He found that often, his psychiatric patients had clinical complaints of a medical nature, and as a licensed physician, he could see to those needs as well. The surgery suite saw considerably less use, and not by his patients. But he could justify having it if he kept the exam room, so he kept it.

He made Will sit in the waiting room. Not at all necessary, but beneficial for the ends he had in mind. The separation in an unfamiliar environment would make Will antsy, make him more susceptible. Hannibal loitered in the exam room, putting on his white coat and draping his stethoscope around his neck, straightening his collar and tidying his hair, allowing his scent to fill the small space to the brim. 

Fifteen minutes later, he popped his head into the waiting room and called, “Will Graham, please.” 

  
This earned him a wry smile and a shake of Will’s head as he stood. “I was on time for my appointment,” he teased, equal parts humor and relief. He’d been curling in on himself, alone in the waiting room, full of unfamiliar scents, unfamiliar noises. 

“Do forgive my tardiness,” Hannibal said, sweeping the door wide so Will could step through. “An important phone call.”

Hannibal directed Will down the hall to the exam room, but Will stopped in his tracks the moment he reached the open door. The lines of tension in Will’s shoulders softened a bit as he stepped through into the small office, chin lifting a little bit. He’d caught Alpha’s smell, dense inside. Hannibal smothered his smile as he shut the door behind them and gestured for Will to sit in the small patient chair beside his workstation. 

“We’ll start with your vitals, once you’ve changed.” he said. 

“Am I getting a candy out of this?” Which bit of impertinence Will delivered with a charmingly impish grin. Something of Alana in him, other than his coloring, after all.

“If you’re good,” Hannibal murmured. “Here’s a gown,” he said, pulling a thin white cotton gown from a drawer under the desk. “Put this on, please.”

He busied himself at his workstation, opening Wills digital patient chart and reading through the information there as though he didn’t know it all by heart already. One by one, articles of clothing piled up on the patient chair in his peripheral vision. A left sock and then a right. Will’s blue and white plaid shirt, neatly folded. His jeans, less neatly folded. A moment of hesitation, and then Will’s white undershirt. 

Hannibal waited. “Everything, please,” he said when Will remained unmoving behind him. 

A deep indrawn breath, and then Will’s boxer briefs, folded in half, topped the pile. Fabric rustled, a little grunt as Will accommodated himself, and then a quiet, “Okay.”

Hannibal turned around. The gown hit Will at just above mid-thigh, and didn’t he paint a pretty picture like that. A little more color to his cheeks, a little more mindless haze in his eyes, and he’d be just right. 

“Step up,” Hannibal said, indicating the scale. “Shall we measure your height too?”

Will’s frown was fierce, and he shook his head. “Same height as before.”

Hannibal wrote a careful 167 centimeters on his chart, and 51 kilograms beside it. Will could stand to gain some weight, for all that his willowy limbs suited him. Perhaps if he’d eaten all his meals this week he’d be a bit closer to the preferable number. 

Something to contemplate. 

“On the table,” Hannibal instructed his son. He pulled an old fashioned mercury thermometer from his coat pocket. “Open up.” He said, tapping Wills lower lip with the end of the probe. Those pretty lips parted and his pink tongue lifted to allow the thermometer in. Hannibal waited until Will’s lips closed into a plump pucker around the glass to release it. 

He acknowledged a visceral satisfaction at putting things into Wills mouth. His come the night before, the thermometer now. Perhaps he ought to feed Will his meals, to be sure he ate them all? _A tempting prospect._

The blood pressure cuff came out next, followed by the pulse oximeter. Beautifully normal numbers all around, though Wills heart rate sat in the high end of the normal range. 

“Nervous?” Hannibal asked. “Your pulse is high.”

“Maybe a little,” Will confessed in a charming display of trust. 

“Would you have preferred Dr. Sutcliffe to see you?”

“No!”

Will’s explosive disagreement came as no surprise. Sutcliffe had a knack for making Will uncomfortable, the precise reason he’d been chosen for the boy's doctor. Alana had argued that comfort mattered; Hannibal had argued that clinical competence mattered more. He won. 

“No. I’m happy it’s you.”

“Would this be easier for you if I behaved less like a doctor?” Hannibal asked. 

A blaze of color filled wills cheeks. “No, no, this is fine, this is better.”

Hannibal suppressed a smile, under no illusions that this would last. “As you say. We’ll begin with a thorough examination. I’m going to ask you again, Will, where those boys pinched you. I want you to be ready to tell me when I ask. Do you understand?”

The color had drained from his cheeks. “Yes, Al— yes doctor,” he squeaked, fingers curling around the edge of the examination table. 

“While I examine you we will take the time to talk you through everything we’re doing and why. If you have questions feel free to stop me and ask. I thought we might as well begin the lesson while we’re at it.”

Another abnormally high sound of assent. _Nerves._ And yet so eager to comply. Sweet boy. 

Hannibal led Will through the familiar motions of a standard physical, explaining the purpose of each step as he went, keeping his voice low and soft, in what must surely be a pleasant drone judging by the way Will’s eyes began to glaze over. 

“Let’s have a listen now, shall we?” He took the stethoscope from around his neck with one hand, and with the other nudged Will’s knees further apart so he could step into the space between. “Come,” he said, wrapping a hand round the back of Will’s neck and urging him closer, until his forehead pressed against Hannibal’s chest. 

A shuddering breath from the sweet boy before him, and then another, slower and deeper. 

“Just like that, Will,” Hannibal said, smoothing a hand down Will’s exposed back, relishing the way the young man melted against him, the way he took in great gulps of air through his mouth, tasting his father’s scent. 

They stood that way until Will’s breathing evened out, and Hannibal touched the warmed diaphragm of the stethoscope to Wills back. He listened to the soothing rush of Will’s breathing, moving his instrument around, pleased and unsurprised that everything seemed normal. The pads of his fingers traced the knobs of Wills spine up to his neck, where he gave another gentle squeeze and received an equally gentle whimper in response. 

“Have you always had a mole here, Will?” Hannibal asked, tapping the small dark beauty mark at the base of Wills neck. The answer was yes, of course, but Will wouldn’t know that. 

He said as much, the words muffled for all that they were spoken into his shirt. “Mole? I’m not sure.”

Affecting a frown, knowing that Will would hear it in his voice, Hannibal tapped the mole once more. “Well. We’ll do a skin assessment while we’re at it.” 

He trailed his fingers up and down Will’s neck once more before applying them to the knot that held the gown in place. “Daddy?” Will’s voice, soft and meek, as his hands came up to press against Hannibal’s chest.

“We’ll have a look all over,” Hannibal said, letting the gown fall into Will’s lap, “and then we’ll do a preliminary well-Omega examination, just in case.”

Will’s prettily flushed face went pale again, and he nodded. Hannibal didn’t need to nudge him this time. Will leaned back into his chest, a little higher now, so that his nose sat just an inch below the collar of Hannibal’s shirt. 

“That’s alright,” Hannibal said, stroking his son’s head once before tripping his fingers down his left arm. He stopped at the patch of pale freckles on Will’s shoulders, a remnant from the summertime when they’d gone sailing, and Will had spent his leisure time with his legs dangling over the side of the boat and a fishing rod held in his capable hands. He stopped again on a dark freckle on the back of Will’s deltoid, and then a mole halfway down his forearm. He turned the arm over and tickled his way over the tendons in relief there, then circled his fingers around Will’s wrist. “You know what I’m going to say.” 

“I need to eat more,” Will said. “I’m too thin.”

“Just so.” He squeezed around Will’s wrist, thinking how easily it would crush in his hold if he bothered to exert himself. “Did they pinch you here?”

“Um,” Will said, shifting slightly so that his nose settled on the patch of skin above Hannibal’s top button. “No.”

Hannibal checked the other arm next, again appreciating the dappling on the shoulder. “This side?” he asked, stroking his thumb over Will’s palm, applying a little pressure. 

“No,” Will sighed. 

“Turn around, my boy.” Hannibal pressed against Will’s shoulder, noting the way Will hesitated before pulling away to turn his back on his father. “Here?” he asked again, closing his fingers around Will’s nape, giving it the same squeeze he had given Will’s wrist, fingertips pressing against the subtle swell of his scent gland.

Head lolling forward, it took Will a moment to answer. “Yes,” he said. 

If Hannibal looked very closely, he could see a faint yellow discoloration on the skin there. His blood boiled. “More than once,” Hannibal surmised, spotting another mark that had gone unnoticed in the amber lighting of his office the night before. 

“Yeah,” Will answered, though some tension had returned to his tone.

“Their misbehaviour is hardly your fault, Will,” Hannibal said, soothing him, before he resumed his examination of the skin of Will’s back, fingers marking out the path that his eyes took over the expanse of pale, pristine. “Your back?” he asked, sliding his hand up Will’s flank, glutting himself on the little shiver that coursed down the boys’ delicate spine in response. 

“N-no.”

Hesitation meant that the word bordered on a lie. Hannibal put those dots together quickly and shut his eyes to quell the rising rage within him. “Back around,” he said to Will, and some of his anger evaporated with Will’s rush to resume his place at Hannibal’s neck, seeking comfort. 

Hannibal congratulated himself on the choice of locale. Will responded to it beautifully, and his anxiety about the exam made him so soft and pliable, so desperate for his father’s familiar comfort. Will, showing him his belly this way, was a rare and beautiful sight. He would never behave this way at school, with anyone other than his Alpha. 

Someday, that might be someone other than Hannibal. But for now, Will reserved his sweetness for Hannibal and Hannibal alone. 

The way it should be.

“Raise your head for me, Will.”

A sleepy blink of his eyes as he straightened, then tilted his head back to show off the slope of his elegant throat, ready for his father’s inspection. 

“Not here, I see,” Hannibal murmured, letting his fingers linger. 

“I would’ve bit them.” A flash of his blue eyes. “I would have bit their fingers right off.”

“Of course you would have, you good, darling boy,” Hannibal praised him. “You do as I’ve taught you. You allow nobody to touch you.”

Mrs. Madchen had taught the traditional view that Omegas existed for the pleasure and convenience of the Alphas in their midst. But Hannibal would never allow his son to accept so uninspired a fate. _Only for the Alphas you love,_ he’d told him, ever since he was a boy. _Only for the Alphas you trust. For them, and for me._ Over time, of course, the ‘for them’ part had lost its place in the frequently-reiterated mantra. For who existed in Will’s life that he loved and trusted, aside from his father?

A little humor sparkled in Will’s blue eyes as he answered, “Except you, Alpha?”

“Except me,” Hannibal agreed, stroking Will’s cheek as a reward for the correct answer. This bit of affection earned him a trusting flutter of eyelashes before they settled, fanned out over his cheekbones, long and curly and dark. 

This hand remained fixed in place, cupping Will’s face, swiping his thumb over Will’s cheek, encouraging it in gathering a faint color. The other travelled down the expanse of Will’s neck, dipping into the hollows of his clavicles, tracing the bones from sternum to shoulder. Another discoloration here. He made a noise of inquiry and Will answered with a minute nod. 

“Will,” he tutted, stroking a path to Will’s left nipple, the skin a nasty purple red and evidently tender from the way Will sucked in a ragged breath at the contact. “How many times?” he asked, moving to the right, the dark bruises on and around it in relief against the pallor of his skin. 

“A lot.” The words fell hesitantly from his lips. “At least once a day.”

“And you kept this from me.” Hannibal’s brows furrowed, pressing a cruel finger against Will’s areola, where the bruise was darkest. Will moaned in pain but remained still, and Hannibal spoke again, not even feigning his disappointment. “That hurts me, Will.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Will answered, moisture beading up between his lashes. “It was humiliating. I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Hmmm.” Hannibal found another pair of bruises on his belly, and sighed. “Scoot to the edge of the table and lie back. There’s a good boy.” 

He resumed his inspection, beginning at Will’s foot, stroking the sensitive sole and smiling when Will jerked away, laughter making his stomach quake. An idle comment on a mole on the back of Will’s calf, and he swept his fingers up the inside of Will’s knee, tickling him gently again. But the laughter died away as Hannibal’s palms and fingers slid up the length of Will’s thighs, lifting his leg high to see the back. He propped Will’s foot on his shoulder and, dropping a gentle kiss on the delicate bone of his ankle, drew one of the stirrups into position. 

“Dad…?” Will asked, coming up onto his elbows as Hannibal tucked his heel into the brace and strapped it into place.

Hannibal hummed in response but didn’t answer, lifting the other leg where it dangled over the edge of the table. Again, he dropped a kiss on the top of Will’s foot, looking at the spaces between each toe, the delicate shape of his arch, the youthful smoothness of his heel. He squeezed the meat of Will’s calf as he passed it, and then drew the leg up high. Pressure this time, as he caressed Will’s thigh, fingers dipping into the crease of his hip, where the small bundle of his fallen gown obscured the sight of his most delicate parts; a kiss to the inside of Will’s knee as he placed the foot into the stirrup, and a soothing pet over Will’s abdomen as he cooed, “Good boy.”

Will’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his cheeks an incandescent pink that spread down his neck and to his chest. His hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, and his belly quivered with each indrawn breath. 

“You poor thing,” Hannibal said, disengaging Will’s clutching fingers from the table and lower himself so that Will could nuzzle into his neck, wind his arms around him and hold him close. “What reason have you to be nervous?” he asked, lips brushing intimately against Will’s neck over the subtle swell of his scent gland.

Another shuddering sigh, but Will said nothing.

“Alpha’s here, darling,” Hannibal said, and, teasing himself now, placed a kiss where he’d much rather let his teeth sink into the skin. “Let my scent calm you. Deep breaths, now.”

His son obeyed, and when his lashes fluttered against Hannibal’s skin, they were wet. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I should have told you.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, voice stern this time. He twined his fingers into Will’s curls and tugged at them gently. “Is there more you haven’t told me?”

A strangled little moan. “There’s one more,” he said, swallowing convulsively between each word, tears flowing freely at this point. “You’ll see it. I’m sorry, Alpha, I should’ve--”

“Shh,” Hannibal said, rewarding this belated confession with a few calming pets of Will’s hair. “You’ve done well telling me, Will. Thank you for your honesty. I only wish you’d said something when this first happened. We could have taken care of it together.”

They would eventually, of course. Officially, through the school, once Hannibal had the time to make the call; unofficially, themselves, once the bruises had healed and the boys’ trespasses against Will had been forgotten by the general public. 

It didn’t matter that the boys were pre-designation, Will included. Will belonged to _Hannibal_ , and Hannibal was a strict, unforgiving Alpha. Nobody touched his property, _nobody_ , without suffering the consequences. 

“M’sorry,” Will repeated, but his voice had regained some of the gentle drowsiness of submission that he had showed so beautifully the night before.

Releasing his hold on Will made Will clutch tighter onto him, and Hannibal smiled, pressing another self-indulgent kiss over the boy’s scent gland. His faint, sweet scent came stronger for the warmth between them. Another year and it would blossom into the spiced, heated aroma of a presented Omega. As yet, only Hannibal’s keen nose would be able to catch it, but this close, it heated his belly with the promise of what was to come. 

“I need to see, Will,” Hannibal reminded him, but Will shook his head and held him closer, tucking his nose and lips into Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal’s grin grew wider, and he didn’t hide his laughter as he said, “It will help you to have the taste of me in your mouth. Have a lick, dear boy.”

Hesitation before Will’s lips parted and his hot tongue laved against Hannibal’s skin. He made a strangled sound, and licked again, lips closing around Hannibal’s flesh, suckling against it almost desperately.

“There, now,” Hannibal murmured, eyes closing as he relished the sensation. “You take my pheromones from the source, and they are doubly effective. Scent and taste together, giving you what you need.”

Eventually Will slowed, and his arms unwound slightly, giving Hannibal room to pull himself free. Like the night before, he wore the look of the inebriated, eyes hazy, lashes lowered, cheeks pink, lips parted. He moved where Hannibal guided him, as fluid as water, to lie back on the table, hands folded over his belly.

“Lift up,” Hannibal said, patting the side of Will’s thigh, and Will, with elegance despite his awkward positioning in the stirrups, raised his bottom off the table just enough for Hannibal to slide a wedge underneath. “Good boy,” he praised, and settled on the rolling chair before his prize. 

His hand settled, proprietary, on Will’s inner thigh, caressing where his adductor muscles stretched as his legs splayed open. 

“Well, now. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We haven't seen how bad the Alpha-Omega dynamic is in this universe yet, but that's coming. It's bad, it gets really bad, and I'm sorry I'm not sorry.  
> We haven't seen a lot to merit the E rating yet either but don't you doubt for a second that Hannibal's not gonna get his dick wet and give his sweet boy a good reason to cry in the next chapter.


	3. Biology Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for feminizing language when labeling body parts.

**A Suitable Education**

**by stagethree**

.

**Chapter 3**

**Biology Lesson**

Hannibal debated for a moment whether or not he should wear gloves. On the one hand, he could not deny the appeal of Will’s increased discomfort to have his father’s touch denied him; on the other, he disliked denying himself the opportunity to feel Will’s skin, himself. In the end, he decided that Will’s pleasure would be as exciting to him as his anxiety, so why deny himself the tactile connection he longed for?

He adjusted the stirrups so that Will’s body curled up and into itself, exposing his backside for assessment, and allowed Will to keep the gown, still crumpled, for modesty. For now. 

“We’ll kill two birds with one stone,” Hannibal said, still adjusting the locking mechanism on the stirrup on the right side. 

It surprised him that Will had the presence of mind to answer that at all, but the words he chose in particular made Hannibal raise his head to get a look at his face. “You _would_ say murder is best when efficacious.”

But Will’s eyes remained closed, and he still had the dreamy, dopey smile on his face that he’d had when Hannibal settled him on the table. He filed the words away for future consideration, and answered at his most charming, “Efficacy improves most things, Will.”

A huff of laughter. 

Hannibal pressed on. “I’ll finish your skin assessment and then we’ll knock out that well-Omega examination while we’re down here, shall we?”

As his hand slid down Will’s thigh toward his bottom, Will’s voice cut into the silence once more. Smaller now, and a little frightened. “It-- I think it would be easier if you, um, if you talked.”

“Of course,” Hannibal said, having already had the intention of doing just that. “I’m going to look at your bottom first. Is it as badly bruised as your breasts?”

“I can’t see it,” Will said, voice thin, “but it feels worse.”

Indeed, Hannibal didn’t spend any time at all finding it. Two large, dark bruises, so purple they looked almost black, one on either cheek. In the dark the night before, he’d not noticed the discoloration; he’d let his sense of touch guide his fingers, his eyes fixed on Will’s mouth, hoping for another peek of that slick pink tongue. He tutted, smoothing the pads of his fingers, palpating the bruise and listening for another hiss of pain from the sweet boy laying before him. “These boys have done quite a number on you,” Hannibal said. “No wonder you haven’t been able to sit still.”

“Matthew said--” Will’s voice shook now, and Hannibal gentled him with soothing motions over his bottom. “He said as soon as he presented as an alpha he’d pin me down and bite me.”

“What a rude child,” Hannibal answered, rewarding Will’s candor with a gentle kiss to his inner thigh.

“Frederick said not if he got me first,” Will said, the words flowing freely, hurriedly, now that there was no point in keeping secrets. “I told them I’d break their jaws and they laughed at me.”

“Ah,” Hannibal said, still soothing. “But they’re operating under a misapprehension, aren’t they, darling? That you don’t have teeth and claws of your own, that you would let any Alpha have control over you.”

“Only the Alphas I love and trust.” The familiar words in Will’s sweet voice, spoken the way little children say their prayers before bed, made Hannibal’s chest fill with warmth. 

“You could break their jaws or their fingers and be well within your rights, Will.”

His blue eyes pried themselves open and he looked at his father. “You say that like you’d like to see me do it.”

“Of course I would like to see you protect yourself, rather than come to harm,” Hannibal said. He patted Will’s bottom once, gently, and lowered the stirrups to the traditional position for a wellness exam. “Alright. I’m going to move your gown now, Will.”

A groan from above him, but Will’s head fell back to the table and his hand drifted higher up to his chest, to keep out of his father’s way. 

“This is the same exam you’ll get every year, once you’ve presented,” Hannibal said, taking the gown, turning and folding it before laying it out of reach on top of the workstation. When he turned back around, he didn’t fight the impulse to exclaim, with honest pleasure, “Oh, what a sweet little cock, darling.”

Will’s eyes snapped open and he cried out a mortified, “Dad!”, coming up onto one elbow, his other hand reaching to cover himself.

“None of that, now,” Hannibal said, swatting his hand aside. “This is just what an Omega’s cock ought to be. Look,” he said, taking it in between two fingers and his thumb. “Little, pretty, and pink. Just right. You said Matthew saw you in the changing room?”

Despite his blazing cheeks and the tears in his eyes, Will answered with commendable calm. “He stuck his head over the door.”

“And saw your tiny cock, and knew you to be an Omega” Hannibal said, devouring Will’s embarrassment, his discomfort. Hannibal peered a little closer at his son’s flaccid length. “So small,” he said again, not minding at all that Will found the commentary offensive. He pumped it once with his fingers for effect, hardly having to move his hand at all. “It’s barely even a cock at this point, hmm?”

“Oh my god,” Will gasped, covering his face now. “Oh my god.”

“The evolution of Omegas is really a remarkable thing,” Hannibal said, looking at Will’s little cock from one angle first and then another, stimulating it gently, idly, under the guise of examination. “Of all the genders, Omegas are the most in tune with their instincts. Expressive fertility rates in Omega males is low; receptive fertility, high. Your remarkable bodies have evolved in favor of a diminutive penis, devoting valuable genetic resources to the organs of actual use. In many ways, the Omega phallus can be considered almost a vestigial feature, though of course, there is its urinary function to consider.”

Another quiet, pained _oh my god_.

Hannibal kept going, trailing a hand down to Will’s testicles. “The testes in particular, are fascinating from an evolutionary perspective. Did you touch yourself last night, Will, after I told you not to?”

“No,” Will answered, some strength in his voice, no doubt hoping that Hannibal would change the subject. “You said not to.” 

This guileless explanation, this admission to a desire to please, to a respect for his father’s commands, warmed whatever heart Hannibal had beating in his chest. “Why did I say not to?”

“You said it would do no good.”

“That’s correct,” Hannibal answered, nudging Will’s testes with his thumb, not acknowledging the hitch in Will’s breath. “Mrs. Madchen must have explained why. What use has an Omega for storing sperm, when the likelihood of those same sperm fertilizing an egg is so painfully low?”

“But we do,” Will argued, again letting the pronoun slip. “Expressive fertility is low but it still _happens_.”

“That’s true. But you’ve played with this little cock of yours before, Will. Were you able to ejaculate? Were you able to come?” Hannibal didn’t give Will the space to answer. He knew the answer. Had heard throught the monitor each and every one of Will’s frustrated groans after a night of failed stimulation on the evenings when Hannibal gave him permission to torture himself that way. “You didn’t, of course, because the sac is useless for reproduction. The fluid that seeps from you _here_ ,” he pressed the pad of his thumb against Will’s slit, to a broken moan from his son, and the gentle stirring of the flesh in his hand as he became erect. “Carries a minimum of sperm. It is a misdirected lubricant and not much more. Omegas have evolved away from ejaculation, in favor of rewarding intercourse achieved through penetration. Although…”

He let that linger in the air, and Will, frowning again, caught it. “Although?”

“Well,” Hannibal said, teasing his thumb over Will’s slit again, sweeping up the clear fluid that beaded at the tip. “It has been reported that some Omegas are capable of, if not ejaculating, at least squirting. They describe it as something pleasurable, and their Alphas report a high level of satisfaction with encounters in which their Omegas are able to achieve it.”

There was no disguising the hope in Will’s voice when he asked, “Do you think I could--?”

“Perhaps, when you’ve presented, you’ll find it possible, though it’s a very rarely reported occurrence. But until then, this little cock is nothing more than a decoration, isn’t it?”

“It still feels good when you touch it,” Will bit back, defensive, though not fighting Hannibal’s ministrations.

  
“And yet that pleasure amounts to nothing.” Offhand, he added, “Even fully hard, it’s negligible in size, this little clitoris of yours.”

Will’s body grew taut, though his erection remained. 

Hannibal smoothed his free hand over Will’s belly, petting him gently. He considered getting up to give Will another chance to self soothe with his nose at Hannibal’s neck, but that would acknowledge too overtly his awareness of his son’s discomfort. “Now I know I’ve been a very indulgent father, and allowed you to play with yourself here, and perhaps I shouldn’t have. Your partners may choose to stimulate you here during mating, of course, or even sometimes during play, but that is something that you must allow them to decide, Will. You must give them that trust. Is that clear?”

It was clear, he knew. Will obeyed him when Hannibal told him not to touch. He allowed Hannibal’s fondling now without question either, though it had been for several minutes already, and could hardly serve a clinical purpose. But then, Will was young, naive, and would not believe that his father would lie to him in so egregious a way.

Which was why his next question took Hannibal by surprise. “Is this… is this play?”

“This is an examination, Will,” Hannibal said, not relinquishing his hold on Will’s cock, or pausing in his ministrations. “Did they not teach you what to expect from play mating in class, Will?”

“Mrs. Madchen didn’t say much about it. Just, um, that it’s like mating. That it’s practice.”

Hannibal sighed. “I can see that we’ll have to address that as well then. What that school pays the teachers for, I can’t see, if all of your education is left to me.” 

With that, he released Will’s cock, pausing to admire its color, the same shade of humiliated pink as the apples of Will’s cheeks, weeping a steady stream of his thin slick. “I’ll take a sample,” Hannibal said, pulling a sample cup from the instrument tray that had sat, innocuous, by the table the entire time. These cups came with a tether that held the funnel-like neck of the cup in place at the head of the wearer’s penis. He tied the tether perhaps a hair tight, and then settled back onto his rolling chair. 

“Now let’s have a look below,” Hannibal said, adjusting the stirrups once more to a similar position to the one he’d put Will in as he inspected his bruises. Each hand cupped Will’s round, soft cheeks and then with a gentling squeeze as the only preamble, pulled the plump cheeks aside to expose his quivering hole. 

“Dad!” Will said, voice panicked, hand reaching out blindly for his father. 

Hannibal released Will’s cheeks and caught the flailing hand. “Are you nervous again, sweet boy? Alpha’s here. Do you need another taste?”

Will, so trusting, nodded quickly, refusing to relinquish his grip on Hannibal’s hand. His father stepped around the table, pushing the button that raised the head end of the exam table as Will rocketed upright, free hand reaching for the lapel of Hannibal’s coat.

That dexterous tongue darted out and then his lips followed, attaching to his father’s flesh in a brief kiss. “You said it’s like this every year,” he sighed against Hannibal’s skin. “Does it get less embarrassing?”

“Of course it does,” Hannibal soothed, stroking a hand down Will’s naked back. “Once the embarrassment fades, you may even begin to anticipate these appointments.”

A huff of laughter warmed Hannibal’s nape. “Only if you’re still my doctor.”

A most satisfactory response. Hannibal waited a minute for Will’s breathing to regulate, and then dug his fingers into the boy’s curls. “Are you ready now?”

“Yeah,” Will said. “Sorry.”

They resumed their previous positions. “Deep breaths, Will,” Hannibal reminded him. Once more, he pulled the plump cheeks apart. “At this point you’ll tire of me telling you that Omegan biology is a point of great interest to me, but how could it not be? Consider. For males of Alpha and Beta designation, the penis has both a reproductive purpose as well as one for the management of bodily wastes.” He slid his right thumb further in, nearly quivering with excitement, himself, at the quick breaths coming from the boy lying prone before him. “In the Omega, the penis has lost the majority of its reproductive significance, whereas _this_ orifice--” he pressed his thumb plush against that pink, tight hole, to the music of a high squeak of distress above him-- “has evolved to include that reproductive purpose.”

Will’s hands clasped at the edges of the table again, and then released it just as quickly to alight over his quivering stomach. A few deep breaths, and he calmed. Following his father’s instructions. _Good boy_. 

“Yours is a particularly fine, textbook example, Will.” The thumb stopped pressing, to gently tap against that sweet orifice. After this presentation, even gentle teasing like this would lead to the copious production of slick. Now, Hannibal’s prodding and pressing, alternating with quick, staccato taps against the rim, did nothing more than make Will squirm. 

And yet. Hannibal caught the faint spike in sweetness in the air, and brought his other thumb down to pry the tight hole open. Will whimpered, muffling the sound behind his hands, and Hannibal relented. He reached for an instrument there, a narrow speculum not much larger than the one reserved for nasal examinations, and, after warming it against his palm, pressed it against the resistance of Will’s tight hole. 

It opened before him with little persuasion, and the sweetness in the air spiked again. “A moment,” Hannibal said, not apologizing for having forgotten to walk Will through that little invasion, too focused on the possibility before him.

A minute passed. And then a small, pearlescent drop of clear fluid beaded up, suspended between the two halves of the parted speculum, before dripping over onto Will’s perineum. “Oh, Will,” Hannibal breathed, overtaken by awe. “What a perfect boy you are. What a perfect little cunt.”

A strangled sound above him. 

Hannibal cranked the speculum a little wider, and ran a finger through the wet trail of the single bead of pre-slick. “You’re producing a little slick, my darling. You may just present early, my boy, my _good boy_. Sometime in the next few months perhaps? Look how your body prepares itself, look how it behaves so beautifully for me.”

“Daddy,” Will cried, voice wet too, though he kept his hands over his belly and tried to continue his deep, even breathing. 

Hannibal removed the speculum and deposited it on the used instrument tray. Teasing the slightly relaxed muscle with his finger, he pressed forward, gorging himself on the sound of Will’s breathless gasp, his pained little whine. “I’ll make sure everything is just as it should be, bear with me for a moment, my boy.”

His finger pressed forward, suffocated by Will’s slick heat. Will’s hips, unintentionally perhaps, bucked up a little when Hannibal’s knuckles pressed tight to his perineum. “Daddy, that’s--”

‘Have you touched yourself here, Will?” Hannibal asked, pulling out and then pressing back in, stroking Will from the inside. He skirted around Will’s prostate, not ready yet to give the boy that pleasure. “Have you played with your little cunt without permission?”

“No, no,” Will answered. “No, Daddy, I haven’t.” His hips wiggled again, and he gasped.

“Of course you haven’t, perfect boy. Did Mrs. Madchen discuss auto-vaginorectal stimulation in her substandard sex and gender education classes?”

Will didn’t answer aloud, though he shook his head. His hands darted from his stomach to his hair, tugging at it the way Hannibal did to soothe him.

“Poor boy, are you alright?” Hannibal asked. “Only a moment more.” A lie. He spent the next minute slowly and forcefully pumping his finger into Will’s hole, rocking his knuckles against Will’s perineum, giving his prostate just a little stimulation from the outside. Will’s little cock, hard now, leaked its thin slick in a steady stream. It had filled the small collection cup tethered to the tip, and its overflow ran down the inside of his thigh to where Hannibal’s hand worked him steadily. 

Almost panicked, Will wailed, “Daddy, I’m--”

“All done,” Hannibal said, pushing hard at Will’s prostate as he pulled his finger free. In two quick motions he removed the collection cup and set it on the tray beside him. “You did very well, darling.” He meant the words, and reinforced their truthfulness by petting Will’s belly, his thighs, his cock, and over the tender, slightly gaping hole of his adorable pink pussy. The stimulation of the genitalia he did only often enough to keep his boy suffering sweetly on the table, to keep him excited, on the brink.

He stood, bringing his hands to Will’s nipples, and gently squeezing their slightly swollen, bruised flesh. Will spasmed beneath him, and, wild-eyed, clutched at his father’s wrists. “Still sore,” Hannibal observed, as though there had ever been any question about it. He pulled Will upright, so that he sat in a puddle of his own slick. “Well, let’s get you dressed and go on home. We’ll have lunch, and then we’ll settle down and address all the gaps that Mrs. Madchen left behind for me to fill.”

“Dad,” Will whispered, face flaming yet again. “Do you have a-- I’m all-- I’m wet.”

“Would you like to forgo your boxers?” Hannibal asked, eyeing the tiny, erect penis and the wet mess around his son’s groin, “Or shall I show you how to use a pad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I dont know, maybe this is the result of demonic possession or something. 
> 
> I think we'll hit 10 chapters? Depends how much we want to see of the world outside Hannibal and Will's sick courtship. We'll get more peeks of it as we go. Is this getting us where we need to go, do you think? If you have any gross requests Im open to suggestions


	4. Maximal Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for diapering (but NOT in the context of controlling waste, age-play, or infantilization)

**A Suitable Education**

**by stagethree**

.

**Chapter 4**

**Maximal Comfort**

Hannibal ambled around the storage closet down the hall from the examination room, rearranging items on the shelves in case Will could hear the racket from where he waited. He skipped right over the boxes for the panty-liners, the day-wear slick pads, the high flow pull-ups. None of them were what he came in here to find.

Will had looked terrified when his father had asked what he wanted to do about the wet mess, still steady dribbling out of the head of his cute, flushed prick. “Wh-what?”

“Dealing with slick production is a natural part of an Omega’s experience,” Hannibal said, voice as gentle as his caress to Will’s cheek, stroking his thumb to collect the tears beading up along his lower lashes. Of course it was something they had to deal with during their heats, and not usually due to anterior slick production from a little edging play, but that was neither here nor there. “Some Omegas choose to use to forgo underthings during this time, as they find the texture of their clothing against their genitalia acts to stimulate slick production. And for the others, there are slick pads to absorb the emissions. Which do you prefer?”

Poor little Will’s eyes had grown progressively wider during this little speech. Apparently Mrs. Madchen had presented a romantic portrait of the Alpha-Beta-Omega spectrum without tackling its less convenient realities. Another strike against the incompetent woman. And yet, he could not bring himself to fully resent her, now; not when her very incompetence had delivered Will so cleanly into Hannibal’s covetous, covetous hands.

“Pad,” Will squeaked, and looked on the verge of passing out when Hannibal had him repeat his answer in a full sentence, please. 

But Hannibal had no intention of giving Will a discreet pantyliner. Allowing the boy comfort would act in direct opposition of Hannibal’s desires for the boy. At last he found what he was looking for, hidden in the back corner of the shelf housing all the other sanitary products: a large square box with the affectation-free packaging of medical supplies, labeled “Behavioural Control Pull-Ups for Unruly and Insubordinate Omegas.”

He used the scalpel he’d carried from the exam room to slice through the tape sealing the box, before pulling out a pair and replacing the box. How long had that box remained in his store-room, unused? Years now, perhaps, but how fortunate that the shipping mix up had provided him with one. 

A moment to lock the closet up behind him before he returned to his son. Will sat where Hannibal had left him, legs still in the stirrups, sitting up, his little erection beginning to flag from the loss of stimulus. 

“All we had,” Hannibal said, holding up the thick wad of fabric, pretending not to see the mortification in Will’s eyes as they tracked that movement. “Normally we stock the liner type,” he tutted, setting it on the instrument tray, “but it seems there was a shipping error and we’re stuck with the pull-up variety.”

“Pull up,” Will repeated, again faint. “Like a diaper?”

“Made for Omegas with a high volume of slick production. You’re not too far off from that, are you?” Hannibal asked, dropping his hand to Will’s cock and pinching the tip lightly, just enough to bring it back to life. 

“I’m going to die,” Will moaned, and reached for his father. Hannibal humored him, allowed him access to his neck. Discussions of reproduction and bodily functions were bound to be embarrassing for any teenager, but Will’s particular brand of injured mortification had brought about this most pleasing reliance on his Alpha’s scent to soothe. Will didn’t even ask for permission when he closed his lips around Hannibal’s scent gland and sucked, laving his tongue over it, coaxing the production of the pheromones he sought. 

Mrs. Machen had likely neglected to mention that Alpha pheromones could be highly addictive to Omegas, almost in the vein of an opiate drug, if taken frequently in strong doses; in the seventies, a rush of different Alpha pheromone based party drugs had hit the streets, and it had taken the better part of a decade for authorities to get that epidemic under control. Most Alphas didn’t produce pheromones potent enough to achieve that effect with their Omega partners in their daily lives, but given Will’s desperation as he suckled at Hannibal’s neck, either Hannibal’s Alpha Prime status, or Will’s disposition as easily susceptible, seemed to be bringing out a similar effect.

But Will needed calming right now, and such information would only distress him. Better to let him take what he needed, let him soothe himself in advance of the _physical_ distress he’d be experiencing shortly, and address the subject another time. In a year or so, once Hannibal had determined whether his son had really developed so satisfactory a reliance on his father’s scent. 

“Are you ready, darling?” Hannibal said, stepping in closer, so that he pressed right up to Will’s chest and the edge of the table, to Will’s hard little clit, and all of that pooled slick soaked into the front of his pants.

Will startled backward, but the stirrups kept him from moving far. “Oh _no_ ,” he moaned, covering his mouth with his hands.

“These things happen,” Hannibal sighed, not stepping away immediately, letting the fabric soak through. “Let me get you out of these stirrups and we’ll get you dressed.”

Will couldn’t muster a response, shutting his eyes as though trying to block out the world. 

Hannibal undid the stirrups, but didn’t allow Will to swing his over to dismount the table off the side. He grabbed his son by the waist and tugged him forward, through the puddle of slick, and then set him down between the still-extended stirrups. Will shuddered, and Hannibal nudged him to turn around. “Put your hands on the edge of the table, Will, and bend over.”

“B-Bend over? _Why_?” But despite the question, Will did not hesitate to comply. 

“This type of pull-up requires precise positioning to be comfortable, and it will be easier for me to help you into it if I can see what I’m doing. There, just like that.” He had knocked Will’s feet further apart, and admired the view of Will’s spread cheeks, glistening from the anterior slick, and puckered little treasure sitting between them. “Good boy, darling, such a good boy.” 

Will’s head dropped down to his chest as his father gentled him, stroking up his back, down his belly. He cupped Will’s cock and kneaded it with the palm of his hand for a mere moment before stroking down Will’s buttocks, down his flanks, and then coming back up again to pull Will’s cheeks further apart and press a malicious thumb right over his hole.

“Beautiful little cunt,” Hannibal murmured, to the sound of Will’s answering gasp, “Gorgeous, well-behaved little cunt.” He’d been tapping and pushing his thumb against it again, the way he had during the exam, hoping, hoping. And then his wish was granted-- when he dug his thumb into the tight ring of muscle, it came away wetter than before. Now that Will couldn’t see him, Hannibal brought his thumb to his mouth and licked the sugary-sweet fluid from his skin. “You’re producing slick still, darling,” he said. “You always give me reasons to be proud of you.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Will nearly shrieked. “You can’t-- you can’t say--”

“Don’t pretend that I don’t compliment you all the time, Will. Your beauty, your intelligence, your diligence and self-discipline. And look at how your body is growing and changing now. Can I not praise you for being so remarkable there too?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Will argued, unable to deny his father’s words. 

“Tosh.” Hannibal reached for the diaper and unfolded it. 

One look inside and Hannibal’s lips parted in a predatory smile. This disciplinary pull-up was made of a thick, bulky fabric, composed of a wicking overlay and a minimally absorbent filler. The overlay would immediately soak in slick and the filler below it, bulky for the aesthetics, would repel the slick; it would go everywhere, run down the wearer’s legs, soak his clothing thoroughly, all while holding just enough moisture close to his skin to convince him he’d filled the diaper, and torment the sensitive skin there with some gentle chafing. On the posterior part of the liner, the fabric had a constellation of raised bumps and grooves over a ridge down the center of the pad to keep the cheeks spread and hole stimulated by its irregular texture. In a presented Omega, this would stimulate the production of reproductive slick, encourage knot-hunger, and induce a pliant mental state. 

Hannibal would never prescribe the use of such a device in a clinical setting; he couldn’t wait to see how Will would like his diaper. He responded so beautifully to humiliation, soothing himself at Hannibal’s neck, apologizing for himself, desperate to improve his father’s impression of him.

With caring hands, Hannibal eased Will’s legs into the pull up. He left it half-way up his legs before he explained to Will what he could expect. “This pad is designed for maximal comfort and absorbency,” he said. He reached around Will and took that tiny cock between thumb and forefinger. “You are producing quite a bit of anterior slick--see how it pours from you here,” he swiped his thumb over the head and Will shuddered in his arms. There’s a miniscule divot in the front of the pull-up where your cock will sit. As for _this_ ,” Hannibal gripped Will’s bottom hard, fingers digging into the bruised skin at his sit-bones, and then petting over Will’s hole, “it may take some getting used to, but this is a pad for high flow, so it is built up to catch the fluid at the source. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Will answered, voice small, shaking the way his legs shook. 

Without another word, Hannibal accommodated Will in the diaper, taking care to spread Will’s cheeks as far apart before nudging the disciplinary ridge between them. As an interventional product, the rise on the diaper was high, up to Will’s belly button. He adjusted the tapes at the waist to sit snugly, and then patted Will’s bottom one more time before stepping away. “I’ll clean up,” he said, “You get dressed.”

He kept one eye on his son, whose face contorted in mortification and discomfort. “Is it--” Will asked, taking one hesitant step and then immediately stopping. He shot a desperate look at his father. “It can’t be sitting right.”

“It takes some getting used to, from what I’ve heard,” Hannibal answered, organizing the items on his used instrument tray to take them off to the sterilization room adjacent to the surgery suite. 

When he returned, Will was dressed, his face a brilliant red, his eyes hazy, and a promising wet patch on his jeans where the legs met the crotch.

“Come along,” Hannibal said, nudging Will out of the exam room, making sure to apply a little pressure to the back of the pad. Will made a strangled sound, and with agonizingly slow steps, allowed himself to be led back to the car. 

Hannibal kept up a pleasant dialogue, commenting that Will must be tired from the ordeal of the exam; they would eat lunch shortly for a break, and then they’d sit down in Hannibal’s office to put some work into correcting his education. Will did not contradict him once; he barely spoke, and when he did, his voice came out high and thready, as though he couldn’t breathe deeply enough to support his speech. 

The moment they stepped out of the car, Will stopped him. “Can I take off the diaper?” he choked. 

“Is your little prick still slicking?” Hannibal asked. Will hesitated, then nodded. “You can always try going bare,” he suggested with a frown, “though if you’re slicking that will be quite a mess to clean up.”

Will sucked in a deep breath, and asked what they would eat for lunch. 

“Something light,” Hannibal answered. He left Will to his own devices while he put together a dish of cold meats, nuts, chopped fruits and blocks of cheese. When he brought the tray out to the dining room, Will was standing next to his chair, tear-tracks coursing down his cheeks, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Oh, darling.” Hannibal set the tray down at his own place, sitting at the head of the table. “You’re distressed. What’s the matter?”

“I’m--I’m--” he wiped a hand over his eyes, took in a hitching breath, but couldn’t form another word. 

“Sweet boy,” Hannibal cooed, petting through his curls. He settled down in his chair, legs wide, and patted the inside of his thigh. “Come.”

Another strangled noise escaped Will’s throat. He dropped immediately to his knees between Hannibal’s legs, and dove his face into the hip crease of Hannibal’s pants. Immediately, he pulled back, raising confused, mutinous eyes to his father. 

“Oh-- I’m so sorry, darling,” Hannibal said, furrowing his brows in consternation. “The scent of your slick, is it? Can’t find Alpha’s scent?” While the patch of Will’s slick on the front of Hannibal’s trousers had mostly dried through, it would be enough to forestall the calming effect of his father’s pheromones. 

“It’s alright, sweet boy,” Hannibal said. “I know what we can do. Here.” He unzipped the front of his trousers, pushing the fabric panels out of the way. He studied for the arrangement, frowning, and muttered a _that won’t do_ just loud enough for his boy to hear it. Then he pushed the front of his boxers down, drawing out the formidable length of his uncut cock and tucking the fabric behind his balls.

“There,” he said, and Will evinced not a moment’s hesitation in bringing his face in to Hannibal’s skin, though he stopped short of latching on to it the way he had with his father’s neck. Hannibal tickled light circles over Will’s scent glands, murmuring soothing nothings. But Will fidgeted on the floor, and each time he did so, he let out another whimper of discomfort.

“You poor thing,” Hannibal sighed. “What can we do to help you?”

The words seemed to jog something in Will’s memory, and, after a hesitant flick of his gaze upward at his father, Will leaned slightly further forward, lips parting just enough to give the skin of that massive and still soft cock a gentle, questioning kitten-lick.

“There, now,” Hannibal murmured, eyes closing as he relished the sensation. “Scent and taste together. Take what you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay and things are getting filthier as we go. These are weird demons that have possessed me but as we all know, it's fine to be weird. In for some more explicit fun next chapter! I'm not sure how long I can keep these daily updates going but Ill do my level best. If you dont hear much from me toward the end of the week its bc i have a slew of appointments, but fingers crossed that they dont iompact writing time too much!


	5. Not a full Lunch

**A Suitable Education**

**by stagethree**

.

**Chapter 5**

**Not a full Lunch**

Will demonstrated a remarkable amount of restraint. He kept his little licks closer to the base of the shaft, as close as he could get to Hannibal’s abdomen without moving from his years-practiced position by Hannibal’s feet. He did not latch on and suckle either; he took deep, shuddering breaths, only letting his little tongue dart out to taste his father’s scent every so often. Aware, of course, of the impropriety of putting his mouth on his father’s genitalia, but desperate to be soothed regardless. 

Hannibal would see to it that Will lost that reserve as soon as may be. 

He could envision long evenings in his office, with Will between his feet and the hot cavern of his mouth nursing on Hannibal’s cock for the few hours before bed. Will would be bare, of course, as an Omega ought to be while serving their Alpha, and would battle his own excitement until Hannibal saw fit to help him find relief. If he decided to at all, of course.

But those nights would have to wait. Will was young yet, and though the signs seemed to indicate he would present early, that would not be for quite a while. Hannibal reflected with awe on the memory of those two drops of thick, oily pre-slick, evidence of Will’s arousal despite his humiliation, and nearly trembled with satisfaction. 

“Have you calmed down, darling?” Hannibal asked, weaving his fingers into Will’s hair, pressing him closer to his groin so that his smooth cheek rested on the side of Hannibal’s cock, and tilting his head back enough that they could see each other.

“I’m better,” Will answered, body still perfectly still. He would be too embarrassed about the pull-up to say anything until it became unbearable; this kind of obstinacy had been handed down to him from both of his natural parents, though Alana’s stubbornness expressed itself rather differently. Then again, these pull-ups were meant to remediate exactly this sort of withholding behaviour. Will could be an _unruly and insubordinate Omega_ sometimes, after all, though in general he did everything he could to please his father.

“Your color is still high,” Hannibal said to contradict Will’s assertion, and Will looked guiltily away. Hannibal indicated the tray of food where his plate usually sat. “I’ve brought lunch, but I’m not convinced that you’re quite calm enough yet to get up.”

“I--” Will swallowed his saliva. “I think you’re right.” Neither of them spoke for a while. “It’s all-- it’s finger food, though, right?” Will asked, peering at the pile of little rolls of cold ham that he could see on the edge of the tray. “I could-- could I just stay here and--”

“Have your plate on the floor, like an animal?” Hannibal asked, scorn in his voice covering the delight in his chest.

“No, no,” Will answered, too quickly, realizing now that he’d stepped wrong. “I could-- you could-- maybe you could--” He stopped, groaning, and leaning in to calm himself with his father’s scent.

“You’d like me to feed you?” Hannibal asked. He took a moment to give the appearance of thinking it over. “It would enable me to ensure you’ve eaten exactly as much as you need to.” No answer. Hannibal plucked a cube of cheese off the tray and dropped a dollop of cherry preserve atop it. “Alright, Will. Let’s try, but be careful not to spill, my boy. Here, open up.”

Will’s head tilted back and his mouth opened, eyes closed and waiting obediently. Hannibal savored the sight of his wet tongue, his perfect, sharp little teeth, the soft tissue of the back of his mouth. Even here, his boy was perfection. One hand cradled Will’s jaw, and then, impulsive, that thumb hooked into Will’s mouth to push his jaw open wider. 

A surprised little noise from the back of Will’s throat, but he obeyed, dropping his mouth open to accommodate.

 _Perfection_. 

Hannibal put the cheese on the center of Will’s tongue, a little downward pressure on his tongue as he went, and withdrew his fingers. He felt fevered, watching the slow movement of Will’s lips and jaw as he chewed, eyes still shut, still prostrate at Hannibal’s feet. 

Saliva-slick fingers took a roll of prosciutto from the tray next. Will’s eyes were still shut; Hannibal licked a stripe down the meat before tucking it between Will’s parted lips. Omegas had a positive reaction to salivary exchange in general. Kissing of course, was pleasurable, and the usual desired mode for exchange, but in a pinch, spitting in an Omega’s drink--or mouth--or on their food-- would produce a similar dopaminergic effect. 

Will might be too young still for that, though, Hannibal noted as the boy chewed thoughtfully, but remained calm, unmoved. He swallowed, and his little mouth opened again for his next bite. 

An offering of three golden raisins and a walnut this time. The hand in Will’s hair migrated down to cup his jaw, then to hold over the front of his throat as he swallowed. Against his will Hannibal envisioned the movement of that little throat around his own massive cock, and breathed in deep to calm himself. 

“You’re doing very well, darling,” Hannibal murmured, pressing another jam-covered cube against Will’s lips. Before Will could lick the jam off his lip, Hannibal’s thumb wiped it, then tucked between the lips. Will chewed the cheese, but his lips remained locked around the tip of Hannibal’s thumb. Again, taking in his scent and flavor directly from his skin.

Hannibal withdrew once Will swallowed. “A moment,” he said, and Will’s eyes opened to peer up at him. While Hannibal arranged a roll of cold ham and a slice of cheese for himself, Will tucked his face back into his father’s groin, rubbing his lips against his cock. His father watched this with delight, chewing his own morsel, and then dribbling a bit of his saliva atop the next offering before calling for Will’s attention. 

This time, after depositing the food on Will’s tongue, he turned his thumb to press against Will’s hard palate, then against the point of a sharp, adorable canine. Adequate for eating, but useless otherwise; Omega marks meant nothing to an Alpha.

“When you choose your alpha,” Hannibal said, thinking ‘ _and it will be me’_ , “he will love to watch you this way. The way your lips move as you chew--the movement of your throat as you swallow. How prettily you open your mouth for them. I won’t be surprised if they keep you on the floor before them this way all day long.”

Will’s cheeks colored, and he swallowed hard. “Dad,” he protested. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” Hannibal asked, popping a strawberry into Will’s mouth as he opened it to answer back. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about, in the intimacy between an Alpha and an Omega.”

“You and mom don’t--”

But Hannibal gently tapped Will’s cheek, frowning, and said, “Not with your mouth full, Will.” Will’s brows furrowed, but he obeyed. “Why are you worried about your mother?”

“I’m not _worried_ about Mom,” Will objected the second he swallowed his food. His face colored. “But she never-- _she_ never sits with you like this.”

So sweet, competing with a woman who didn’t matter in the least. “She doesn’t,” Hannibal conceded. “But she is away often for work. You must think it strange that I feel closer to you than I do to her, but you are my Omega as well for now, and I do so like to spoil you.”

“This is spoiling me?” Will asked, voice dry, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t you feel spoiled, you beautiful boy? Close to your Alpha, fed by hand, admired and petted and precious?”

Will made a strangled noise and ducked his face back in to his father’s groin. Hannibal let his eyes wander, down the elegant slope of his neck, the curve of his back, to see the way Will’s hips wiggled, small, inconspicuous movements. And then he saw it-- the mess of wetness all over Will’s jeans, soaked through, so that a drop or two had landed on the floor below him. 

“Oh, darling,” Hannibal said. “You’ve made a mess.”

Will froze, and then whimpered, and Hannibal felt a tear beading up by Will’s eye where it pressed against his abdomen. 

“You know how withholding disappoints me, Will. Why did you say nothing?”

Will shook his head, but couldnt bring himself to speak. 

Hannibal sighed, dropping a cursory pat on the top of Will’s head when really he wanted nothing more than to devour him whole. “Come, come, let’s get you cleaned up and calmed down.”

“Daddy--” Will blubbered, tears pouring freely down his face again, utterly mortified. 

“It’s alright, Will, I’ll take care of you. Get up, now.”

Will stood on trembling legs, like a baby fawn standing for the first time. Hannibal followed suit, tucking himself back into his pants with a discrete squeeze for relief, and then taking his son by the arm and leading him upstairs. Again, they walked painfully slowly, Will whimpering and crying with each step forward.

A kind man might sweep Will off his feet and spare him the climb, the friction. But Hannibal, not a kind man, drank down each of Will’s sobs, and ‘soothed’ him with the occasional pat on the bottom. They passed the first door by the landing, Will’s room, and proceeded down the hall to Hannibal’s. Will didn’t notice until they stepped through the door and Hannibal asked him to wait for a moment while he ran the bath. 

“Dad?” Will asked, when Hannibal came back into the room, uncertainty thick in his voice, though his greedy eyes darted around taking in every detail in the room, his nostrils flaring as he catalogued the scent in the air. His father’s only, not one iota of his mother’s to be found. 

“I said I’d take care of you, darling,” Hannibal sighed. “Come now, let’s get out of these clothes. A little clean up, then a bath, and we’ll have a little lie-down to calm you down.”

Will blinked owlish eyes at him. 

“We used to do this when you were a child,” Hannibal murmured, reminiscing. Will had been so small, so eager to please the first Alpha in his life. Not much had changed there, though Will’s intellect, humor, and turn of thought had grown beautifully, perfectly, until his brilliance was irresistible. 

But Will didn’t move, apparently overwhelmed into freezing on the spot.

Hannibal sighed again and pulled him further into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them as he went. “It’s alright, sweet boy. Let Alpha help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> six is coming either late tonight or probably tomorrow and it. is. gonna. be. feisty.


	6. Cleaning up

**A Suitable Education**

**by stagethree**

.

**Chapter 6**

**Cleaning up**

The shirt came off easily enough, and Will didn’t protest when his father took charge of its removal, too distressed to manage it himself. The denim stuck to Will’s legs on the way down; even the edges of his socks were sticky and wet. Hannibal coaxed him out of his clothing with the patience of a saint, truly, and discarded them into the laundry bin in the corner. He came back and made swift work of the tapes at Will’s waist, lowering the pull-up over his slim legs.

Only marginally heavier than when he’d put it on at first, as it was perfectly dry except for the thin layer on the inside. “You’ve soaked it through,” Hannibal sighed, and took it to the trash bin in the water closet to dispose of. 

Will hadn’t moved when he returned, hands curled into fists pressed into his eyes, leaking still as steadily as his little erection was.

“Oh, my poor darling,” Hannibal breathed, and brought his son in for a hug. He held him only briefly, not allowing him to burrow the way he had been all day, before picking up a washcloth and turning his son to face the bathroom mirror. 

Will determinedly did not look up, refusing to see the beauty of his own reflection. 

“Hands on the counter, Will,” Hannibal said, and then, urging him to spread his legs wider, added, “just like at the office.”

The poor boy’s bottom was a bright, unhappy pink, his puckered hole cinched closed as he desperately tried to control his body’s responses. Even his little cock, still weeping anterior slick, was an angry red. His skin everywhere shone with wetness, like one of the Heat Pornography pinups that Hannibal had secreted into his childhood bedroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before we get into the bath,” Hannibal murmured, his voice close to Will’s ear, giving in a little to the desire to cover him. 

But he didn’t reach for the towel right away. He ran the water in the sink--warm, yes, but just on this side of cool--and cupped a handful of it before tipping it over onto Will’s lower back. He hissed in surprise as the water ran down his lumbar spine, over his bottom, down his cleft. Hannibal repeated this a few times, before stepping beside Will and pouring the water over his abdomen. He stroked down the trembling muscles of his belly, over the little cock, still messing everywhere, down his inner thighs, over his lower back, his buttocks, his tightly pinched hole. 

Then, he moistened the towel and tenderly, tenderly, began wiping his boy down. He made it lighthearted, tickling a little under his ribs and then soothing over his flanks, the a watery giggle from Will’s lips. He took pity on the child and made quick work of the task before asking, “can you check on the bath for me, darling?”

Will nodded and walked over to the large soaking tub, still walking as though he could barely stand to move. In that time, Hannibal divested himself of his own clothing, depositing it in the hamper before sliding up beside his son. 

“It’s good,” Will said, and then startled when he saw his fathers nudity. 

“Let’s get in then, shall we?” He asked, stepping into the tub and holding a hand out to take Will’s and help him over the lip. 

“I thought— I didn’t think you’d be—“

“Can you really spare me?” Hannibal asked, leaning in to take a sniff at Will’s scent glad, the ripe notes of his anxiety. “It won’t be the first time we’ve bathed together, Will.”

He said this teasingly, laughter shimmering in his voice, and Will reacted well to it. He shot Hannibal a wry grin and, shaking his head, reached out for his father’s hand. Hannibal settled down into the water first, spreading his legs wide and beckoning his son to take his place between them. He did so, leaning forward to loop his arms around his knees, careful to keep their bodies from touching. 

Hannibal didn’t let this bother him. This endearing self-consciousness wouldn’t last forever, and it was something he knew to treasure; he would likely find himself missing it, some day. Instead, he plucked a sponge from the wooden bath tray at the side of the tub, dipped it in the water, and lathered it up with a fragrance-free soap. Will jumped a little when his father touched the sponge down to his right shoulder, but relaxed again immediately as Hannibal ran it in soothing circles over his skin, from one shoulder to the other. 

“Bathing together can form a part of play mating,” Hannibal informed him, to a stiffening in his son’s spine. “It serves the function of creating intimacy between partners, stimulating the senses, preparing the Omega for what is to follow.”

“What _is_ to follow?” Will asked, strained. 

“As it often occurs in conjunction with courtship, mating follows,” Hannibal answered. “But we are not courting, are we, darling?” Hannibal teased again, dropping a kiss to Will’s neck, just shy of his scent gland. “After we’re done bathing, I’ll help you to shed some of this persistent distress of yours, and then we’ll discuss play and mating as Mrs. Madchen ought to have taught it.”

Will nodded, still stiff, though the reassurance seemed to calm him. Hannibal kept his touches on this side of clinical; he scrubbed down to the base of Will’s spine, before pulling him gently closer, so that Will’s back rested against his chest, and scrubbing down first one arm, and then the other. 

“I guess Omegas don’t grow chest hair,” Will said, and Hannibal could hear the pout. 

Hannibal took this as an excuse to run the sponge down Will’s chest, gently massaging it over his bruised, sore nipples, then down to his abdomen, held tense as Will sucked in a breath and stopped breathing. 

“Move your legs, darling,” Hannibal instructed, hooking his feet around Will’s ankles and drawing them wide, to the edges of the tub. “Aside from increasing warmth, Alpha body hair exists to stimulate delicate Omega skin during the act of mounting.” He paused, leaning in a bit to Will’s back as he dragged the sponge further down Will’s abdomen, below his navel. He pitched his voice lower, propping his chin on his son’s shoulder, so that the side of his lips brushed the shell of his ear as he spoke. “Benivener and Paul did a study, I believe fifteen years ago, now, assessing how the presence and absence of body hair impacted Omega perception of satisfaction during mounting, with a longitudinal component assessing outcomes in child-bearing.”

“I’m guessing not favorable,” Will said, striving for composure and falling woefully short. 

“You’d be correct,” Hannibal said, dropping a kiss on Will’s ear, and watching it color with infinite gratification. “I doubt there have been studies on whether it is perceived as attractive in Omegas prior to presentation. Does it bother you?”

“Bother, no,” Will said. His chin ducked down into his chest. Embarrassment again. “It’s, it’s fine.”

“Hmm,” Hannibal answered. He finished sponging what he could reach of Will’s thighs, had him hold himself up so he could wipe his buttocks, sweep the textured sponge over his most intimate places, and then handed Will the sponge to do the bottom half of his legs and feet. Once they finished, Hannibal looped his arm around Will’s waist, hoisted him backwards, and settled him on his lap.

Will squealed, not prepared for the movement, not prepared for the contact. “Um, I was fine-- I can just--”

“Don’t deny your father a chance to enjoy feeling close to his son,” Hannibal admonished, nuzzling against his neck. What could Will say to that? He fell silent, though did not quite relax. “I have realized, after so brief a morning together, how little time we spend together recently. Work and then school, routine grinding down on our time, leaving us only the sight of one another in passing, several times a day. Do you miss me at all, Will?”

Will remained silent for a long time, but when he spoke, he sounded lighter. “Yeah. Today’s been… it’s been nice. And not just because it’s a day of school,” he chuckled a little at that. “Can I-- can I be honest?”

Hannibal nodded, his stubble scraping gently against Will’s cheek as he murmured an ‘always’ in response. 

“I’m always-- I feel like I’m always fighting for time with you. Dinner time is nice, and so is good-night time, but-- I feel sometimes, like, like we’re not even with each other then.”

Hannibal sighed and tightened his hold on his son. The bathwater had begun to cool, and Will’s fingers, when they came up to grip Hannibal’s forearm to keep him close, had begun to prune.

“I’m happy you’ve told me,” Hannibal said, again letting the withholding pass in favor of rewarding the telling. Will made him too soft, too indulgent. “I promise you have my full attention, now, darling, and that I will reserve it always for you alone.” Another kiss, this time lingering, to Will’s cheek.

Will colored, not realizing how terrible Hannibal’s focus could be. He would eventually, but he’d bear Hannibal’s mark by then--would be so accustomed to his father’s favor, that the idea of losing it would be intolerable.

“Let’s dry off,” Hannibal said, rubbing a thumb against the nub of Will’s nipple before he released him, and coaxed them both to their feet. Still knee-deep in water, Hannibal pulled Will in tight once more, this time facing one another, and cupped the back of Will’s head to hold him tight to his chest. 

“My darling boy,” Hannibal murmured, his other hand dropping lower on Will’s back, stroking him, applying a gentle pressure that pushed their bodies closer together. When they pulled away, Will’s hard little prick had regained some life, glistening again.

Hannibal tutted. He stepped out of the bath and helped Will out after him, and then briskly toweled them both down. He slowed, pressing the towel flush against Will’s hole, and then using it to cup Will’s expressive cock. “Come, let’s go lie down,” he said, depositing the wet towel in the hamper and leading Will back into the bedroom by the hand. “I know exactly what will help with this naughty, naughty thing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I wanted this one to be awful and dirty and it ended up a little fluffy?  
> OH WELL.  
> Next one for sure will have Hannibal taking some liberties, or more than he has already anyway. What do we think? Chastity devices and more edging? Or making the sweet boy squirt until he's got nothing left in there any more?
> 
> ALSO a heads up, no update tomorrow for the aforementioned reasons, but when we come back it'll be with a (lol) BANG!


	7. Alpha Knows Best

**A Suitable Education**

**by stagethree**

.

**Chapter 7**

**Alpha Knows Best**

Hannibal didn’t release Will until they reached his bedside. The poor boy’s eyes looked as thought they might pop out of his skull as stared down at the mattress, with it’s black raw silk coverlet and the wealth of pillows at the headboard. Someday, when Will finally bore Hannibal’s mark, he’d search for those same pillows and comforter when the time came to nest. Early experiences giving them a positive context would reinforce that desire, when his nesting instinct at last kicked in. 

“Alright, darling. I want you to lie down in the middle on your belly. Can you do that?”

A slight nod, and then Will moved, slowly, hesitantly, to follow his father’s instructions. He turned his head, cheek pressed against the coverlet, to eye his father. One of his hands had slid under his body, cupping in front of his cock to try and preserve the fabric below him. Hannibal didn’t bother asking him to move it; it would prove a fruitless venture soon enough. “Now what?”

“Now,” Hannibal said, “We’ll learn a little about play mating, and I’ll resolve that little situation of yours.” He took himself in hand, not minding the way Will’s eyes widened, glued to the movement of his father’s fist as it pumped his cock into hardness, not minding the way strangled indrawn breath, the way his body grew tense on the mattress. Will’s mouth opened to protest, but Hannibal cut him off. “I’m going to cover you. Did you learn about covering?”

Some of the tension evaporated. “It’s--it’s when--you’re just going to lie on top of me, right?”

Hannibal sighed, but he moved to do just that. “It’s an early part of play. It creates intimacy and comfort between partners, and stimulates the Omega.”

“I don’t need to be stimulated!” Will squeaked, as Hannibal straddled his hips, lowering himself so that his heavy sac touched gently against Will’s bruised, sore bottom, and the continued movements of his hand over his cock made the bed rock gently beneath them.

“On the contrary, Will,” Hannibal tutted. His free hand dropped to Will’s left cheek, fingers splaying wide, gripping the flesh tight and drinking in the sound Will made in reply. Partway between moan and wail. His inner turmoil made aural. “Stimulation is exactly what you need. I blame myself. I have been far too lenient with you, too permissive.”

Will shut his eyes. “Lenient? This is--I’ve been bad?”

“Not at all, darling. This isn’t a punishment. Your body is asking for an Alpha to take control. I’ve allowed you too much independence in these matters. That’s alright. We’ll fix that now. I’m going to cover you.”

Will buried his head into the blankets. Hannibal scooted down a little, released himself in favor of spreading Will’s cheeks wide, and then lowered himself so that his heavy cock lay snugly between the mounds of flesh. He shifted his hips under the guise of getting himself comfortable, rubbing his length over Will’s twitching hole, and then lowered the rest of the way. The head of his cock pressed into Will’s lower back, right over his third lumbar vertebra, his chest pressing into Will’s back, his chin into Will’s shoulder. 

With a sigh, he nuzzled into the arc of Will’s neck right over his scent gland, and then lay still. At its most basic, Hannibal’s definition of play mating was true. Creation of intimacy, stimulation, preparation for mating. But not just for the act of Mating, true mating, where an Alpha bit his Omega and their bond was formed. Preparation for base mating, for fucking. Like the pull-up, it was meant to encourage production of reproductive slick, incite knot-hunger, and induce a pliant mental state. 

Surrounded by the scent of his Alpha, pressed into the mattress by his formidable weight, lightly stimulated by the motion of his Alpha’s back against him as he breathed, Will’s body did as it was designed to do. 

Then again, they’d been playing all day, hadn’t they? And Will had been perfectly pliant and well-behaved the whole time. Had dribbled with what slick his immature body could produce, had sought intimacy. Had sought, unknowingly, the comfort he would only be able to find in his father’s cock. 

“Such a good boy for me, Will,” Hannibal murmured, stroking his hand down the boy’s arm. “Always so perfect for your Daddy.”

Will’s eyes squeezed tightly closed, he took in a deep, controlled breath. Hannibal did not miss the way his slim hips jittered at the words.

“As to play mating,” Hannibal said, lowering his voice, brushing the words against Will’s neck with his lips, playing up the lyricality of his accent. “Covering is a benign form, of course; other forms have more satisfactory results. But there are ways that it can be made more effective.”

“Ways,” Will croaked.

“Ways.” He slipped a hand under Will’s throat, cupping his trachea and pinching his fingers into the sensitive glands in his neck. He felt Will’s high, garbled noise in response, vibrating against his palm. Felt the increase in his pulse, the quickening of his breaths. He dropped a kiss to Will’s nape and continued, dropping little kisses there between sentences. “Coupling talk. Increasing points of pressure. Adding friction. They all have their utility. For example this,” he squeezed a little around Will’s neck before releasing him again, to a gasping inhalation in reply, “or if I were to move like so.”

Of course, the point of friction would be his hips. He pressed them forward, until the base of his cock nestled against Will’s buttocks, then pulled back, dragging his cock between Will’s cheeks until the thick, bulbous head abutted Will’s hole. He lingered there for a moment, his free hand grasping himself, prodding at it, wetting it with his precum, and then slid forward again, this time between Will’s thighs, with his cock pressed tight against Will’s perineum. 

“Daddy,” Will gasped, and Hannibal applied another squeeze to his neck, holding it for a beat before releasing, in time with the backward pull of his cock. 

Will panted into the mattress, the fingers of his right hand twisting it, wrinkling it, as though he could tear it to shreds. His other hand remained cupped over his cock, trying to contain his increasing emissions, and failing at last. 

“Daddy, you said you’d make it stop,” he cried, as Hannibal gripped his cock again and pushed it against Will’s slowly slackening hole, as he drank up the slightest increase in give. 

“And darling, I will,” he said. “Be a good boy and let Daddy play with you. We’ll wring you dry, darling, until there’s nothing left. We’ll make you squirt like you wanted, won’t we? Just be good. Alpha knows best.”

Perhaps if Will weren’t moaning into the mattress, writhing a little beneath him, so consumed by new sensations, he might have registered the uncharacteristic desperation in Hannibal’s voice, the excessive justification. As it was, Will’s mind processed the sweet promise in his tones, and the requests for him to be good, to be a good Omega for his Daddy, and nothing more.

“A presented Omega,” Hannibal said, bucking his hips as he fucked between Will’s thighs, “would be sopping wet by now. Are you wet, Will?”

Hannibal could hear the slick sounds of skin meeting wet skin where he held himself.

“Of course you are, you’ve been dripping all day. A year from now your little cunt will be wide open and waiting for Alpha’s cock, so wet we may as well keep you in the bath all day.”

“Daddy,” Will whined, his own hips moving too now. “Daddy.”

Hannibal squeezed Will’s neck one more time before releasing him, bringing his hand down to pry Will’s cheeks apart, to tease his thumb around Will’s sweet, quivering hole. “A beautiful, well behaved cunt, my good, good, boy.” And then his voice changed, back to its normal, sedate tones, its easy cadence. “I’m going to apply some pressure inside, darling, just the way I did during your exam.” 

The change in his father’s voice made Will’s head lift in question, but when Hannibal’s finger pressed inside of him, finding the one spot he’d so pointedly avoided during the Well Omega Exam this morning, Will’s body lost all its strength, melting into the mattress as he let out a low, keening wail.

Hannibal stroked the pad of his finger against that sensitive little nub, delighting in the pulsating constrictions of Will’s slick channel around his finger, in the sweet moans his voice made, in the increasing wetness from his little cock, that slipped to lubricate the press of Hannibal’s cock between his thighs. 

He rocked his knuckle against Will’s perineum, fingertip tapping and rubbing at his prostate. That tight heat choked around his finger, if Hannibal had his cock in there it would surely wring _him_ dry, and Will’s sweet, whimpering voice grew wetter too, as he sobbed his pleasure. “Daddy,” he moaned, “what’s--”

“A part of play, darling,” Hannibal murmured. “Breathe deep, sweet boy. Relax, and let it happen. Take what Alpha gives you.”

Will’s body had begun to quake, and he gasped for breath as he tried to turn underneath his father’s weight. “Daddy, I need-- I need--”

“You want your Alpha, don’t you, beloved,” Hannibal murmured, obliging him, rearranging their positions on the bed. Hannibal settled down between Will’s legs, pulling Will’s arms around his neck so he could sate himself against Hannibal’s scent gland, could rut his tiny cock against his father’s, as that thick finger penetrated him once more. “You need Alpha to soothe you.”

Hannibal let Will take his weight, his cock sliding through the copious anterior slick that pooled on his abdomen, his precum mixing with it as they moved together. Will’s lips latched onto Hannibal’s neck, teeth scraping over the scent gland now, his harmless little teeth gnawing as though he could plant a claiming bit there. 

The temptation arose in Hannibal then, to lean down the rest of the way, lie chest to chest, and to close his teeth around the boy’s throat. To mark him as his own, to erase any question of who this Omega belonged to. But Hannibal, with his saintly patience, withheld. Instead, he pumped a second finger into Will’s slowly dilating sphincter, and with renewed insistence, bullied the boy’s tender, virgin prostate.

“Are you trying to come?” Hannibal asked, laughing. “You know you won’t be able to.”

“You said--” Will gasped, but stopped, shocked into wordlessness as Hannibal pressed his prostate again with one curled finger, and then reached further with the other, probing for the tight furl inside that marked the entrance to Will’s womb. He touched it once, just to see how Will would react; his body convulsed, and he fell against the bed, limp but for the shocks running through him. 

“Someday you’ll take your Alpha’s seed here, darling,” he murmured, scissoring his fingers, teasing Will’s hole again, leaving that tender spot alone in favor of opening his boy up wider. “Someday Alpha will pump you full to bursting with his come, and you’ll drool for it, won’t you, your sweet mouth and your sweet cunt.”

Will’s eyes drifted closed and he gnawed on his lip. Face flushed, covered in sweat and slick, limp and yet gyrating, out of control-- he had never been more beautiful.

“I’m going to make you squirt now, my good, perfect boy.” And then he leaned in, and nipped against Will’s neck, right over his throat, teeth digging into the flesh there as though he wanted to rip that delicate trachea free.

Will cried, and sobbed, and the way his father bid, his sweet pink cock spasmed, jettisoning a stream of his thin, watery spunk. It splattered against Hannibal’s abdomen, over his cock, dribbling into a pathetic trickle before it stopped completely. Will’s little hole spasmed around his fingers, and he whined, not quite satisfied. He wouldn’t be; not without his father’s cock knotting him deep, bringing the act to its natural end. But at least now he wouldn’t make a mess all over the house. 

Hannibal straightened, scooting up the bed so that his knees bracketed Will’s head, and gripped himself in his fist. Will stared up at him, eyes glazed in frustrated pleasure, mouth agape, pink tongue peeking out from between his adorable teeth. Hannibal didn’t hold himself back; he may have been teasing Will all day, but he’d also been teasing himself, hadn’t he? With Will’s scent, the sweetest it had ever been, coating the inside of his mouth, Hannibal gave into his primal instinct.

He gripped the headboard for balance with his left hand, and fucked into the tunnel of his fingers on the other, cock dripping precum in small beads onto Will’s face. He grunted, fucking his hips forward, squeezing his fist tight, kneading the base of his cock where his knot would grow inside his son. When he felt the heat, the pleasure, the nerve-fraying tingles being to crest, he pressed his hips down, rubbing the head of his leaking cock against Will’s lips. 

“Daddy,” Will mumbled, and the subtle movements of lips, teeth and tongue against Hannibal’s cock made him lose control. 

Hannibal pointed his cock down and his balls squeezed tight as he came, thick ropes of come streaming over Will’s flushed and rosy cheeks, over his parted, tender lips, over the slick pink of his tongue. He pumped his shaft through the aftershocks, milking himself dry too, letting his come mark Will’s neck, his chest, his tight, bruised nipples. 

Hannibal took only a moment to enjoy the afterglow before he picked up as though they were still in the exam room. “What a good boy you’ve been, Will? Didn’t I say that I’d take care of you?” 

He got off the bed, going for the top drawer of his dresser, and pulling out a small velvet box, and another pull-up, brought over from the office. 

“I’ve been too permissive, of course, but we’ll correct that now. A cage for your naughty little cock, and another pull-up until we’ve trained it to behave.”

“Daddy--” Will managed, still dazed, still come-drunk from the scent of his father’s heat all over his face.

“Now, now,” Hannibal murmured, rubbing his thumb over Will’s cheek, rubbing his come into the skin. “Alpha knows best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aahahahaha realized "Daddy Kink" wasnt tagged??? More medical kink next chapter. What other tags should I add? Take this as an opportunity to point out things I've missed, as well as to make suggestions for future content. You feed me, I feed you. That's how it goes, right?
> 
> I'll shoot for another chapter tomorrow but if it doesn't happen, then Sunday for sure!


	8. Good Night

**A Suitable Education**

**by stagethree**

.

**Chapter 8**

**Good Night**

“It’s tight,” came Will’s faint voice as Hannibal closed the cage snug around his tiny little cock. 

Hannibal had purchased this little accessory almost the moment he realized that Will would be an Omega. He’d been nine years old, then. Shorter than his peers, sweet in disposition, a tendency to hold back from the roughhousing that the other children seemed to enjoy; and then, a growing aversion to his mother, a growing insistence on attention from his Alpha. 

When he bought it, he did it with the absolute certainty that it would never be necessary to cage his boy. Will was intelligent, insightful, and eager to please. He had a strong sense of duty and justice, and a confidence in his judgements. Hannibal knew that all he must do is set a standard of good behaviour and the boy would strive to live up to his standards. 

And of course, he had. In everything, Will came as close to perfection as a person could ever hope to. 

A cage, then, was not _necessary_. 

But Hannibal deserved a little fun, didn’t he?

“As with the pull-up, it takes some getting used to,” Hannibal murmured, adjusting the positioning, so that the small bulb on the inside of the cage nestled tighter against Will’s urethra. Will’s head lolled to the side--submission--and his fingers twitched, but he lay generally insensate as his father adjusted his restraint.

A few more adjustments as he wrapped the boy up in another behavioural control pull up, and then he sat back to admire his work. “You lay there for a while, sweet boy, and rest. When you’re ready I’ll be in my office,” Hannibal said, soothing a hand down Will’s flank before leaving him. 

He pulled his dressing robe from the back of the bedroom door and draped it about himself, not disguising the pep in his step on the way downstairs. Relieving Will earlier had done him a world of good as well. But as he settled down at his desk to write a short entry in his journal summarizing today’s treatment, he found himself wandering between several different trains of thought for Will’s future. 

Alana still had about a week until her tour completed. What would they do when she returned home? While Will was softness and sweetness itself when around his father, tp Alana, an Omega bearing his Alpha’s mark, Will became contrary, aggressive, baring his little teeth as though he wanted to rip her throat out. 

Something which Hannibal didn’t mind encouraging, but he would have to tread carefully there. Alana and Margot’s affair had become less a dalliance and more a long-term arrangement between them, never mind that they were both Omegas, and Margot unmarked at that. Margot would not be likely to forgive anyone for harming Alana, let alone killing her, and she had the Verger estate to back her if she ever sought revenge. 

Hannibal knew that he would never hand Will over to another Alpha to mark. That would be an insult to them both; Hannibal, in his long years, had never met anyone with the potential to be his true equal, until he came to know Will, and Will would certainly never meet anyone that could hope to meet the standard his father had set. 

So while playing now was all well and good, he would have to tread carefully. Were he to overwhelm the boy, he might ruin all of the good groundwork that he had laid between them. He couldn’t allow that. 

He had had his fun. Now, he would allow Will to seek him out, allow Will to crave this connection that they had started between them. It would take patience, more than he had ever had to exert before, but the end result would be beautiful, Hannibal was certain. 

He shut his journal and locked it in the top drawer of his desk, and not a moment later, Will’s familiar knock sounded on the door. 

“Come in,” Hannibal called, and the door opened.

Will had dressed. His loose pajama pants, still slung low, hid the generous bulk of the pull-up, and his worn sleep-shirt, yet another of his father’s, had slid to reveal the delicate curve of a freckled shoulder. His curls were askew, his face rosy and, Hannibal noted with mild amusement, clean. “I didn’t know what to do about the comforter,” he said, dropping his gaze in embarrassment, the rosiness spreading down his neck. “It’s a mess.”

“Leave it,” Hannibal murmured, scooting his chair back and patting the inside of his thigh. “Come.”

Will did as he bid. He approached, slower, his gait a little more stilted as he continued to adjust to both the cage and the diaper, and dropping between Hannibal’s spread thighs with as much grace as he could manage despite them. The halves of Hannibal’s dressing gown had parted, revealing his nudity beneath, and though he hesitated at the sight of his father’s flaccid cock hanging down between them, he leaned in nonetheless. “Leave it?” he asked, nuzzling into his father’s thigh and then blinking hard.

“Do I smell like us, darling?” Hannibal asked, reaching down to cup his son’s face. 

Will sniffed curiously and then, looking up at Hannibal, nodded, with all the hesitation of a child answering a question they did not want to answer incorrectly.

“A pleasing scent?” He stroked his thumb over Will’s cheekbone, then let his hand drift lower to cup the boy’s neck, gently.

“Yeah,” Will answered, and then, embarrassed at his own eagerness, added, “I guess.”

“You see now why I asked you to leave the comforter, then,” Hannibal murmured, his thumb coming up to press on Will’s chin, to encourage him to open his mouth.

“Won’t Mom mind?” Will asked before allowing his mouth to drop open. 

“Breathe through your mouth, darling.” Oral breathing would activate the scent glands on his posterior hard palate, more keenly attuned to pheromonal input than the scent glands in his nose. He felt the rush of air over his thumb as Will sucked in a breath, and watched the boy’s lashes flutter closed. 

He slipped his thumb forward, pressing down on the slick muscle of Will’s tongue, before removing it to replace it with his thumb and middle finger.

Ignoring the question about Alana, he stroked against Will’s tongue. “This can be a form of play as well. When you choose an Alpha, he may ask you to use your talented little mouth in this way. Closed around his fingers, or his cock.”

Will made a little noise and the vibrations of his mouth around Hannibal’s fingers made his cock twitch, right in front of Will’s face. Good thing the boy’s eyes remained tightly closed. 

“You would hardly be able to handle an adult Alpha’s cock with this sweet mouth of yours yet, though, my boy.” At this, another sound, though one of displeasure, paired with a furrow between his brows. “But we can get you started on your way so that when the time comes, you’re ready.”

Will’s tongue laved around Hannibal’s fingers, his lips pursed a little withe application of a gentle suction. 

Hannibal laughed and stroked against Will’s tongue again, his other hand petting through Will’s hair. “That’s quite a different thing, Will, that exceeds the limits of play. Be still.”

Will’s cheeks colored prettily, embarrassed at his own enthusiasm, and he stilled. A moment later, though, one of his hands rose from where he had kept it folded patiently in his lap, to rest lightly on Hannibal’s wrist. An impertinence, a break of their long-established routine, but Hannibal merely shook his head and allowed it. 

He’d always been a permissive parent. 

These little signs of dominance from Will endeared his son to him, rather than upset him. Hannibal had always admired Will’s sharpness, the almost feral quality of his anger, the cold perfection of his justice. He’d seen Will intercede in playground squabbles asa boy, meting out justice with tooth and claw against the bigger boys that dared to bully their more vulnerable playmates, and while Hannibal had had to force Will to apologize for drawing blood, he had rewarded the boy plenty when they’d gotten home. 

“That’s how you protect yourself,” Hannibal had told him, “if an Alpha dares lay a hand on you, tries to control you. You only allow that from the Alphas you love. The Alphas you trust.”

_Only me._

Will’s tongue occasionally worked his fingers over, usually in response to Hannibal’s own movement. He’d scissor his fingers wide, on either side of Will’s tongue, pressing to the soft interior of his cheeks, he’d stroke the roof of his mouth, the edges of his sharp teeth, he’d press his fingers deep into the cavern of Will’s mouth, and watch his beautiful eyes water. Will’s hand remained gentle on Hannibal’s wrist through it all, and his mouth compliant with all of the teasing. 

Saliva pooled at the floor of his mouth, dribbled out the corners when Hannibal moved his fingers again. Will really did look his most beautiful when Hannibal made a mess of him. 

He withdrew his fingers after a while, and Will dropped his hand back to his lap before turning, hazy-eyed, to nuzzle against Hannibal’s bare cock. He leaned in breathed deep, open-mouthed breaths, trying to capture some more of his father’s scent. 

“I want my bed to smell like you too,” Will mumbled, and Hannibal’s chest grew warm. 

“Will, darling,” Hannibal sighed, petting his son’s hair. 

“Can we? When we do good-night?”

Hannibal fought down his smile. If not for Will’s scent, still that clean, slightly-sweet scent, Hannibal could almost believe that the boy was going into heat. His coloring, his feverish gaze, the way he begged to surround himself in his Alpha’s scent. If he were like this now, months before presenting, how would he be in the throes of heat?

“Oh, darling,” Hannibal murmured, overcome. “I suppose it is after nine. And we skipped our good-night routine last night didn’t we?”

That was all the confirmation Will needed to come to his feet. Hannibal took Will’s hand and led him back to the boy’s bedroom. Their good-night routine was a heavy alteration of the recommended, science-backed routine for an Alpha and their Omega child, though still roughly following the same framework. 

Will brushed his teeth, then Hannibal inspected every nook and cranny with a pen-light and the pad of his finger, running along the surfaces of his teeth and his gums. Will washed his face, and then settled at Hannibal’s feet again for Hannibal to brush through his hair, massage his scalp, tug gently on his ears and earlobes. Hannibal pulled the covers on the bed down, and Will settled atop the mattress, belly-up, and waited. 

What followed were twenty-five to thirty minutes of gentling. The child-rearing books recommended five minutes, but Hannibal never did things by halves. The books recommended gentle petting of the head and forehead, a low-toned bedtime story or conversation, and then silent company side-by-side sans petting. 

But Hannibal usually spent half an hour, stroking Will down from head to foot. Massaging arms and hands and fingers, rubbing down his legs, his feet, his toes. He would pressed soft circles into Will’s belly, and then stroke loving tracks down Will’s back. 

And yet their routine underwent a few changes this evening. He regretted the presence of the pull-up almost immediately, for it blocked his hand from touching Will's abdomen, once he’d coaxed the shirt off over his head. “Are you wet at all, darling?” Hannibal breathed into the darkness of his bedroom.

“No,” Will said. “You kept your promise.”

“Then let’s take this off, for now. No need to worry when you’re in bed.” He helped Will strip the pull-up, but left the cage in place. That would have to stay. Gently, he flicked it at the tip, jostling it where the nub pressed against the tip of Will’s little cock. “Is it comfortable?”

“The pressure feels nice,” Will said, after a beat. “I didn’t like it at first, though.”

“Good things take time.” Now Hannibal set about the familiar path of his caresses. Shoulders, arms, hands, fingers. Toes, feet, calves, thighs. He cupped his warm hand over Will’s caged cock and offered it a quick, comforting squeeze before ascending to draw the circles over Will’s belly, then around his nipples. 

“Still sore?” he asked, plucking each one between thumb and forefinger, pressing against the deep bruises on the areolas. 

“Dad!” Will groaned, shrinking away, a hand coming up to cover his chest. “Yeah, they’re sore. I mean look at them.”

Hannibal tutted, bringing his fingers back to Will’s nipples and rubbing them over those raised nubs. “I am, darling,” he said. “Massage helps with the healing of bruises, Will. If you won’t let me help you, then will you do it yourself? Five minutes of massage, morning and night, until the bruises fade completely.”

“O-Okay,” Will said, trying to stay still, trying not to pull away again. 

“Good boy,” Hannibal murmured, and then tapped at Will’s hip. “Turn over, darling.” Will turned onto his back, and Hannibal nudged his legs apart. “Wider, please,” he instructed, and Will did as he bid, though with a shy look over his shoulder. 

He stroked the back of Will’s head, down his back. He kneaded at the globes of Will’s ass, to the sweet, stifled sounds of Will’s enjoyment resonating in his throat, stroked his fingers over Will’s perineum, traced a prodding circle around Will’s hole, then leaned forward again and started over with a squeeze of Will’s nape, over his scent glands, and back on down.

His other hand gripped his cock, watching as Will writhed gently below him, the way his little hole twitched in anticipation as Hannibal’s fingers skirted lower down his back. 

Possessed, he spread his knees wider and touched the tip of his cock to Will’s hole, smearing his precum wetly over it, before he began to stroke himself with purpose. “I’ll give you my scent here,” he said, pressing his hips forward through the tunnel of his hand so that Will’s sweet cunt gave a little under the pressure of his blunt cockhead, “and on your back, so when you turn over to sleep, the mattress will take it up.”

“Not-- not my face?” Will asked, voice small, breathless.

Hannibal’s hips stuttered. “No, darling, you just washed it clean,” he managed through gritted teeth, as he increased his speed, choking his cock in his fingers, “but if you really think you’ll miss my scent that much, I think I have a solution.”

“Please, Daddy,” Will mumbled into his pillow, his fingers gripping it tight as his own slender hips thrust backward to meet his father’s gentling caress, the press of his thumb into the rim of his cunt, so eager to give way after an entire day of teasing. 

Hannibal’s eyes flitted between the bare nape of his son’s neck and the quivering, waiting hole before him. He bit his lower lip and controlled his breathing, the tension inside of him rising, his balls pulling up, his cock throbbing in his hand, the bulge at the base already beginning to swell, seeking a warm cunt to fill. 

“Please, Daddy,” Will repeated, and Hannibal saw stars. He came, spraying a thick rope of his come over Will’s back, and then another, before pressing the head of his cock against Will’s cunt, rubbing them together, working his come into that lax rim. 

He breathed deeply, grasping for a veneer of calm, before squeezing himself around his unfulfilled knot, and milking the last of his come out over Will’s ass cheeks and down his thighs. When his cock lay spent in his hand, he released it, in favor of pressing his fingers against Will’s cunt, feeling the muscle spasm at the pressure, pushing a little of his come inside. 

He scooped another dollop of it onto his fingers and then, in a gravelly, low voice, commanded Will to turn over. “Open your mouth, my darling, good boy,” he said, and the moment Will’s lips parted, pressed his fingers into Will’s mouth, rubbing his come on the boy’s tongue, on the roof of his mouth near his scent glands. 

Will suckled his fingers, eyes clouded, completely come-drunk, his little cock once more erect and fighting valiantly against the confines of its cage. Hannibal took his own cock in his free hand and smeared it against Will’s belly, cleaning it off, before plucking his fingers from Will’s mouth and coming to his feet. 

He re-tied his dressing gown around him, dropped a kiss on Will’s forehead, and, watching as his son’s eyes drifted closed, wished him one final, “good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've had some requests and I'm happy to fill more!  
> I thought for my own sake, I'd do some sneaking around behind Alana's back, maybe even while she's in the room and completely unaware-- does that count as cuckolding, or is that cheating? Someone tell me what my kinks are called.  
> We'll have a little time skip in a minute, and the promised revisit of the medical kink, and so on and so forth, all in the next few chapters.  
> Did I say 6 or 7 when we first started? Hah. This baby'll keep going until the demons are exorcised.


End file.
